


Mythology

by Hel_Bee



Series: Lynchpin [3]
Category: Torchwood
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2020-01-14
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:42:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 22,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21908389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hel_Bee/pseuds/Hel_Bee
Summary: With mythical beasts turning up all over Scotland, Torchwood Two thought they were in charge; however, so did Torchwood Four. Unfortunately for both parties their main suspect was refusing to talk to anyone other than Torchwood Three’s Ianto Jones.
Relationships: Jack Harkness/Ianto Jones
Series: Lynchpin [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1570587
Comments: 8
Kudos: 80





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Follows my stories Lynchpin and Constant. Okay folks... time to investigate the other side of Ianto’s family tree! This one is lighter in tone to Constant – time to have a bit of fun!
> 
> Set after 2.13. Spoilers for both series 1 and 2, and a bit of DW: Last of the Time Lords and The Shakespeare Code

Philip Henshaw scowled at the young policewoman who impeded his progress. She stood her ground refusing to let him past the police line. “I don’t care if you’re the reincarnation of Bonnie Prince Charlie, you ain't going in there until the SOCOs have finished,” she said in a high-pitched Glaswegian accent.

“What part of Torchwood did you not understand?” he growled, frustrated at the thought of a team of civilian forensic scientists crawling all over the area, potentially contaminating the artefact – or worse, triggering it.

“I don’t know who you think you are, but I know the Torchwood guys – and you sure as hell ain’t Stuart. And unless she’s really let herself go, you ain't Mary either!”

Henshaw groaned. Trust the local plod to know the members of Torchwood Two. “Look,” he said with annoyance, “we’re from a different branch. So just let me and my friend here through.”

Standing in the middle of the rose gardens of Queen’s Park in the pouring rain was not high on Henshaw's list of ways to spend a Saturday night. The light was fading and the damp air of the early spring evening was seeping through the lightweight material of his coat. He extracted a cigarette from its crumpled box and lit it, allowing the nicotine to work its magic on his patience. In front of them was a large white tent, the contents of which were the reason they were there. Inside were the remains of a grade three psychic bomb, and not the body of a jogger that the police thought they were examining.

The young female PC look unconvinced, and Henshaw doubted she was any more pleased than him to be spending her evening here, but if he and his second-in-command, Siobhan, didn’t get into that tent soon they were going to have a lot more to worry about than the hurt feelings of the local constabulary. Henshaw was about to open his mouth to continue the argument when the screech of the balding tyres of a battered-looking Jaguar XJS rent the air. Henshaw seethed silently as he watched the car halt suddenly on the supposedly pedestrian walkway of the park. A man in his late thirties wearing a long, brown, duster jacket and a face so sour it could turn milk got out. He was accompanied by an equally unhappy looking woman, with a skirt short enough to make his mother blush and an orange complexion straight out of a bottle.

“Who are you?” demanded sour-face.

Henshaw recognised him as the head of Torchwood Two, Stuart Dunston, and not for the first time he wondered how the hell the other branches functioned with their appointed leaders. Dunston had all the egotistical mannerisms of Harkness of Torchwood Three, without the captain’s charm, and with no Ianto Jones to keep him in line.

“I’m Philip Henshaw, Torchwood Four.” He didn’t bother extending his hand, Dunston wasn’t about to shake it.

Dunston looked confused, he raised his eyebrows at his companion – one Mary Sinclair – who shrugged and dug out a handheld scanner from her patent leather handbag and pointed it at Henshaw. Her eyes widened when her scanner beeped. “He matches the description in the database.”

“Okay,” said Dunston, clearly not happy. “So the rumours are true and you lot have decided to stop hiding – congratulations. Now tell me why you’re here. This is Torchwood Two’s jurisdiction.”

“The energy traces we’ve been picking up are of a paranormal nature. Therefore, we’re in charge. Besides, Torchwood Two doesn’t have the resources to deal with this situation.”

“And you do?” scoffed Dunston.

“Yes, we do,” said Henshaw, stepping forward, intentionally trying to intimidate the younger man. “Leave this to us.”

“Gentlemen, and I’m using the term loosely,” interjected Siobhan, “this is neither the time nor place to have this discussion.” She flicked her eyes in the direction of the highly amused PC.

Henshaw grabbed hold of Dunston firmly by the arm and dragged him out of earshot of their two female colleagues and the police. “I’m not here to argue with you,” he hissed. “What is in that tent is something you guys just don’t have the expertise to deal with.”

“Bullshit! You just consider cooperation a dirty word. I’ve heard about you – you’ve always been one to march in and walk all over people. I bet Harkness didn’t let you do that when you were in Cardiff!”

“How did you know we were in Cardiff?” asked Henshaw, puzzled and not too impressed to hear his business was common knowledge.

“Unlike Torchwood Four, the Torchwood Two and Three teams actually talk to each other – and Jack’s an old friend of mine.”

“Harkness seems to be everyone’s friend,” Henshaw sneered. Muttering more to himself than to Dunston he added: “I really must talk to Ianto about his pitiful taste.”

“Ianto? What, the teaboy?” said Dunston incredulously. “I doubt Jack would have to resort to him!”

Henshaw leaned in very close and looked Dunston directly in the eye. “You would do well not to insult Ianto Jones around me or my team – you wouldn’t be the first to underestimate him.”

Dunston didn’t flinch, he merely smiled and said, “Sounds like this Jones fella has ingratiated himself with more than one Torchwood head – makes me want to meet him myself.”

How he managed to keep his calm Henshaw would never know, but instead he pushed Dunston away. “I…”

He never got to finish his sentence as a loud bang from the direction of the white tent ripped the words from his mouth. Both Dunston and Henshaw turned to stare in the direction of the explosion, momentarily shocked they stared open mouthed at the scene before them. Gone was the white tent and in its place stood a large snarling dog, which would have resembled a Doberman if it wasn’t for the three heads.

“Jesus Christ!” exclaimed Siobhan, Henshaw now at her side.

“You must be reading a different bible, Shiv, cos that don’t look like the son of God to me.”

“Thanks, that’s really helpful. Do you have anything constructive to say, maybe some idea of what to do?” she said, annoyed.

“We could try and trap it in a stasis field… but what we’d do with it then I’ve no idea.”

“Okay, leave it to me,” said Siobhan, her jaw set and looking tenacious. “But be ready just in case it makes a run for it.”

Reluctantly Henshaw nodded and then shouted for the police to fall back as the beast growled and slobbered from its three snarling jaws. The PC ran up to him. “Not now,” he said, trying to push her to one side.

“You’ve gotta listen to me. You ain't gonna believe it!”

“Say what you’ve gotta say and say it quick!” he ordered, watching with concern as Siobhan edged closer to the dog.

“If you weren’t Torchwood you’d think I was mad, but I’ve just heard a message over the radio that Nessie has just been sighted in the Union Canal!”

\-----------

“When you said dinner and a movie all those months ago, I didn’t realise you meant re-enacting Deep Throat,” gasped Ianto Jones as he rode out the remnants of his climax.

“Well, you know me, Ianto,” said Jack, planting kisses on Ianto’s flushed skin as he worked his way up his lover’s body, “I like to multitask.”

“Multitasking? I suppose there’s a first time for everything!” Ianto bit down on his lip to contain a moan as Jack sucked leisurely on his nipple.

“I have another idea – how about Last Tango in Paris? Unless you have any other suggestions…”

Jack’s thought-wrecking kiss put paid to Ianto’s attempt at a sarcastic retort, and he surrendered to Jack’s gentle ministrations for the third – no maybe the fourth – time that afternoon. “You’ll be the death of me, Harkness,” he growled as Jack’s skilful fingers prepared him.

“Le petite mort only I hope,” whispered Jack as he slid into Ianto’s all encompassing heat.

Jack’s slow thrusts were maddening, building Ianto’s ire and pulling back to leave him on the brink of desperation. Ianto marvelled just how Jack could elicit such a reaction from his body having already pushed him over the edge with his amazing oral talents. Although Ianto was not physically capable of climaxing again, Jack delivered him pleasure after pleasure. Ianto urged Jack on; welcoming the other man’s heavy weight after Jack had experienced his own release.

“I know I joke about the effect of my 51st century pheromones, Ianto, but I'm beginning to believe you’re actually addictive.”

Ianto allowed Jack to pull him into his arms, extremely grateful that Gwen had insisted they attempted to spend some time together away from the Hub, even if it was only at his flat. However, Ianto knew it couldn’t last as the recognisable alert tone of Jack’s mobile beeped loudly.

Despite Ianto’s protests Jack reached down and extracted his phone from his hastily removed trousers. He activated his keypad and opened the text message.

All right, Jack! I did as you asked and passed your message to our mutual friend. He went very quiet, then muttered something I didn’t quite catch – I’d expect a visit if I was you… you know what he’s like! Martha xx.

Jack showed Ianto the message. Ianto promptly groaned, rolled over and pulled the duvet over his head. “We’ve only just got rid of one Time Lord; that’s all I need, a bloody ‘nother one!”

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special A/N for this chapter: The Armadillo is the nickname for the Clyde Auditorium at the SECC (Scottish Exhibition and Conference Centre). More about the SECC go here: http://www.secc.co.uk/

Henshaw prided himself on the fact that very little surprised him. In the course of his career, he’d seen things that even Yvonne Hartman would have found extraordinary. But never had he seen such a sight as a grown woman trying to get close to a three-headed devil dog using a Mars bar. Although he did vaguely recall Ianto mentioning once that pterodactyls liked dark chocolate. Siobhan was making quaint clucking noises and the dog had stopped growling and was looking bemusedly at the strange woman in front of him. Part of Henshaw wondered just what the hell was going on in Siobhan’s head as surely she was close enough by now to set up a stasis field.

“Well, if this is your extensive experience, Henshaw, I think you’re fooling yourself if you think I’m gonna step back and let your team take over,” said Dunston dismissively. “I’ve seen worse crawling around the sewers.”

“I know you like to think you’re living on the edge of danger, but I don’t believe for one moment you’ve ever had to deal with Cerberus before,” replied Henshaw tersely. “Or at least something very like the guard dog of Hades.”

“You should see what falls out of the clubs on Sauchiehall Street after closing time – some of them ain't so different.”

“Then perhaps you should concentrate on this city’s other inhabitants and let me get on with my job!”

Dunston muttered something that Henshaw didn’t hear, but he doubted it was complimentary, before adding: “Y’know, you don’t have to be an arse – we are all working for the same cause.”

“Yes, but some of us do it better,” shot back Henshaw with a grin.

“Now you’re starting to sound like Jack Harkness – though I guess you’d both be grateful that’s where the similarity ends.”

Henshaw tutted but decided to ignore Dunston, preferring to watch Siobhan. She’d stopped about three metres away from the hell hound and had thrown the now unwrapped confectionary in its direction. With one of its mouths occupied, Henshaw could begin to see the method in Siobhan’s madness. Siobhan was gearing up to create the stasis field. She was rubbing the palms of her hands together slowly and had crouched down, keeping her eye on the dog, but obviously concentrating on what she was about to do. He’d seen her do this countless times, although admittedly there had been a few other members of his team with her. But since Ianto had reconnected the circle, energising each of his team well beyond their initial capabilities, Siobhan was more than able to do this on her own.

Siobhan touched her fingertips lightly on the ground, and through their connection Henshaw felt her psychic abilities stir. Even Dunston seemed to have cottoned on that something outside the standard Torchwood remit was happening. A roll of thunder crashed above them, which caused Henshaw to look skywards cautiously. A lightning bolt streaked above them and he really didn’t like the thought of that.

“Wow,” gasped Dunston, “I dinnae know you guys messed with the weather when you go all hocus pocus.”

“We don’t.”

“What?”

“I’m hoping that this is just normal weather for Scotland,” Henshaw said uncertainly, “but by the look on your face I think I must be mistaken.”

Siobhan had also been distracted by the weather, and even Cerberus looked unhappy. The rain, that moments before had been light drizzle, now fell in great, fat droplets that pounded remorselessly against the ground. The light in the park was failing fast and another deafening crash of thunder rolled overhead, accompanied by a bolt of lightning that struck the ground only metres away from Siobhan and the dog. A column of smoke began to meander upwards from the point at which the lightning hit; it became thicker and thicker, quickly turning into a fast rotating vortex.

A crack, which sounded like concrete splitting, emanated from the smoke, and a bright light poured from it. The crack widened and elongated until its height and width were similar to an average man. With a final rumble of thunder a figure appeared, stepping out of the crack and staring around the park. It was a woman, young-looking, beautiful in a classical sense with long golden hair and red lips. Her gaze fell upon the dog and she smiled. “Aren’t you a handsome boy,” she said in a childish voice that most people reserved for speaking to animals and children, and patted Cerberus on the head. “Bet your mummy’s missing you.”

Henshaw and Dunston exchanged a look of bewilderment, finally roused from their inaction by Dunston’s colleague, Mary, shouting at them to move. The three of them raced to Siobhan, who slowly got to her feet and was staring dumbly at the woman. Henshaw took charge, while Dunston looked mutinous, glowering and his arms crossed, but kept quiet.

The woman slowly came to focus on him. “Ah, so here I am back on good old planet Earth.”

“Who are you?” asked Henshaw, slowly moving so he stood between the woman and Siobhan.

“Kelistra Manos. And you?”

“Torchwood.”

“So, Mr Torchwood, who are your friends?”

Henshaw could have sworn there was a look of recognition in her blue eyes, but her words said something different. “No, I work for Torchwood, and these are my colleagues.”

“Well, that it is fascinating – but I really think me and Cerberus here must be going.”

Dunston stepped forward and grabbed her forearm. “I don’t think so, missy. Appearing parks in a mass of smoke and causing thunderstorms makes me kinda suspicious…”

“Unhand me,” she hissed, her eyes burning with distaste.

“Not until we’ve had a little chat.”

Not for the first time Henshaw wondered how the hell Dunston had managed to become a leader with his seemingly non-existent diplomatic skills. Kelistra clicked the fingers on her right hand and the resulting energy wave knocked Dunston straight off his feet.

“I don’t think so,” she said smiling. “Now if you’ll excuse me.”

Henshaw felt Siobhan slide her hand into his. He squeezed it back in response, knowing exactly what she had in mind. As quick as a flash, a beam of light shot out from Siobhan’s other hand and wrapped around Kelistra’s wrist.

The alien’s eyes widened and she pulled her hand free easily, but a look of consternation flitted across her face as Siobhan fired again, once more restraining her wrist. Henshaw opened his mind to Siobhan and felt her leach off his power reserves to increase the pressure on Kelistra.

“We won’t hurt you,” Henshaw promised Kelistra. “We just want to talk.”

“All right, I’ll come with you,” she said with a resigned sigh, but her capitulation worried Henshaw, it seemed too fast, too easy.

Siobhan stood next to her, the beam of light now acting almost like handcuffs. “What are we going to do about the dog?” she asked.

Kelistra smiled thinly. “Oh, he’s no trouble. He’ll follow me quite happily.”

“Best bet is to take her back to the Armadillo,” said Dunston, who was now back on his feet. “Mary, can you do clean up?”

“No problem,” she replied, already mentally running through the procedures she intended to use.

With no reason to argue Henshaw followed Dunston back to his car, and pretty quickly they were heading south, out of the city centre. Dunston drove and Kelistra was flanked either side by Henshaw and Siobhan, while Cerberus sat happily panting in the foot well of the front passenger seat.

“Are you guys still under the SECC?” asked Henshaw, noticing the road signs.

“Yeah, but I think I’d have preferred it when it was a shipyard, but they built over us before I joined. Mind you being under the Armadillo is great – the food’s amazing, no conference ever notices a couple extra for dinner!”

“It’s not exactly very secret though, is it? Under an exhibition centre?”

Dunston shrugged. “No worse than Torchwood Three – and Torchwood Tower was hardly inconspicuous!”

“Did you guys never think of using the house?” asked Siobhan, still keeping a careful eye on their prisoner who had said nothing during the journey.

“What, Torchwood House? Nah, far too stuffy for the likes of us. Besides, we’ve always been here – not our fault they decided to regenerate the area.”

The traffic was busy, mainly due to the hoards of visitors clamouring to see a well known rock band who were playing at the SECC that night. They pulled into a car park and Dunston swore loudly as his reserved parking space was occupied by a brand new BMW. With a string of profanities he manoeuvred the car into a free space and took out his mobile phone, proceeding to yell loudly down the line at someone about getting the offending BMW towed away.

Dunston led them from the car, away from the river and therefore anyone making their way to the main arena for the gig, towards a hut that looked like a small electricity sub-station. Henshaw had been here before; unlike the entrance to Torchwood Three there was no exciting shortcut to Torchwood Two’s headquarters. He looked around uneasily, thankful for small mercies that Kelistra wasn’t struggling, since he thought that he already had enough to worry about with a three-headed dog trotting around Glasgow.

Dunston placed his hand against the hut’s door and it sprang open. “Come on, don’t have all night.”

They entered a well lit service corridor, which terminated in front of a lift. Piling in, they descended four floors rapidly and the lift doors opened onto a light airy space that was part office, part pool hall and part someone’s front room.

“Right, let’s stick her in a cell and then we can try and figure out what’s going on,” said Dunston, taking off his coat and throwing it across the arm of a nearby chair.

“We can’t put her in the cells,” said Siobhan, outraged.

“She could be dangerous,” insisted Dunston. “And while you’re in my building we’ll follow Torchwood Two rules!”

Dunston and Siobhan scowled at each other, but Kelistra didn’t argue, instead she continued to smiled serenely, not saying a word.

“As much as I’m loathed to admit it,” said Henshaw, “I think Dunston has a point.”

Siobhan tutted loudly, but allowed Dunston to lead them down a number of nondescript corridors to a part of the Armadillo that contained Torchwood Two’s containment cells. They were fairly bright and well kept and Siobhan admitted they were nicer than she had expected. Dunston opened one of the perspex doors and Kelistra entered, the dog obediently following her in.

“This is just a precaution,” he assured her. “Once you’ve answered our questions we’ll let you go.”

Kelistra sat down on the bench and crossed one leg over the other. She arched an elegant eyebrow and smiled. “You will be waiting a long time if you are expecting me to answer your questions. I’ll talk only to Ianto Jones.”

Henshaw’s forehead crinkled. “Ianto? How do you know Ianto?” he demanded.

Kelistra grinned, shrugged and mimed zipping her mouth shut with her fingers.

\--------

Jack Harkness wasn’t particularly happy to be summoned back to the Hub. He’d let Gwen’s call go to voicemail, while busily trying to convince Ianto to save water by means of sharing a shower, and her garbed message said less than it revealed.

The cog door rolled back and they entered the Hub, Jack called out to Gwen who appeared immediately, looking excitable and wide-eyed. “This better be good,” warned Jack, but his tone was playful.

“Oh, Jack, I don’t think you’d want to miss this for the world. Both Torchwood Two and Four are asking for our help! Mind you, they’re being pretty cagey – said to use the video conferencing to phone ‘em back as soon as you could. Hurry up,” she said grinning, “I’m dying to know what’s going on!”

“Really?” he said with a smirk. “It’s always nice to be wanted. Okay, you two, let’s see how we can help our brothers in arms.”

Ianto and Gwen followed in Jack’s wake as he bounded up the stairs to the conference room. “I haven’t seen him this happy in ages,” Gwen said conspiratorially.

Ianto raised an eyebrow. “Well, I have – but not in work-related matters.”

Gwen nudged him playfully with her elbow. “Are his manners in bed getting worse?”

“You wouldn’t believe!”

“Oi, if you’re quite finished, in here now!” shouted Jack.

Ianto arrived and took a seat as Jack keyed in the direct dial number for Torchwood Two. The call connected and the faces of two men he recognised appeared on the plasma screen. They looked like they’d been fighting, which didn’t surprise Ianto since he knew Philip Henshaw well enough to know Stuart Dunston’s abrasive personality would really annoy him.

“Gwen told me you’d called earlier. How can we be of assistance on this cheerful Saturday evening?” Jack asked, not even attempting to keep the smugness out of his voice. There was no love lost between himself and Henshaw, but he had, on occasion, got along well with Dunston.

Henshaw’s scowl deepened. “I would say your arrogance astounds me, but having met you before I am more than aware of the boundaries of your egotism. Sorry, to deflate your big head, Harkness, but like our last meeting it’s Ianto I want to speak to.”

“Now, wait a minute,” interrupted Dunston, “we agreed any involvement of Torchwood Three would be through Jack.”

Henshaw tutted. “What do you think we’re doing now? We’re talking to Jack, and now we can talk to Ianto and actually get something done.”

Ianto cleared his throat loudly to interrupt they two men’s bickering. “Phillip, you know I’m always glad to see you, but what’s the problem? And why are you at the Armadillo?”

“We were investigating a psychic bomb, when this lot turned up,” he said gesturing dismissively in the direction of Dunston, “although in hindsight, it was a good job they did as we wouldn’t have had anywhere to put the prisoner.”

“Prisoner?” prompted Ianto, mainly to stop Dunston’s outraged retort. A noise from one of the computers downstairs caught Gwen’s attention and she silently excused herself to see what had caused it.

“The bomb exploded and in its place was a three-headed dog.”  
Dunston leaned closer to the screen, determined to continue the story, but unlike Henshaw he directed the conversation at Jack. “Then the heavens open, and this great lightning bolt strikes the ground and from nowhere this pretty blonde lass appears. She wasn’t exactly interested in coming along quietly, if you know what I mean. Anyways, Henshaw and Siobhan manage to contain her somehow, and we get her back to the cells only for her to clam up completely, refusing to talk to anyone but Torchwood Three’s teaboy!”

Henshaw reaction mirrored Jack’s as they both glowered at Dunston, but it was Jack who spoke. “If you want our help, Stuart, you’d better watch your mouth.”

With a thin smile Dunston muttered an apology, but it was less than sincere. Ianto rolled his eyes at the display between the three men and was relieved when Gwen reappeared clutching a sheet of paper that she handed to Jack.

“So, Ianto,” said Henshaw, taking back the narrative, “here’s the live feed to the cells. Do you recognise her?”

Even with the grainy picture of the video screen it was clear that the woman was beautiful. Her long, golden hair cascaded over her shoulders; her eyes were a clear, bright blue and her complexion fair and vibrant. And Ianto recognised her immediately. He swallowed thickly, wondering if he could buy himself some more time.

“She’s looks sort of familiar,” he admitted. “I think I need longer to see if can remember her.”

Jack looked up from his sheet of paper. “What's all this about the Loch Ness monster?” he asked with a chuckle.

Dunston groaned. “Something else that’s appeared out of thin air. Mary, God knows how, managed to get it back to the Armadillo. It’s basking in the Clyde at the moment, being a danger to shipping!”

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

Jack ended the call after assuring Henshaw and Dunston that Ianto would contact them immediately if he remembered who their guest was. “So, who is she?” he asked. “And don’t try to look innocent, Ianto, I now know when you’re hiding something.”

“She – well, her species – is the reason I can do what I do for Torchwood Four,” Ianto replied, realising that both Jack and Gwen would see through any lie he tried to make up on the spot. “She’s a Carrionite.”

Gwen looked confused, but Jack got his implication immediately. “A relative, then. Please tell me she’s not granny!”

Ianto laughed. “No, my grandmother was half human, and that side of her genetics reduced her lifespan considerably. That woman is my Great Aunt Kelis. She’s the half-sister of my grandmother – and one hundred percent Carrionite.”

“Er...” began Gwen.

Despite thinking that Gwen’s expression was rather comical, Ianto decided not to leave her hanging. “Carrionites are an alien species capable of distorting physics and the natural world using words. On more primitive planets they’re often mistaken for practising witchcraft. Apparently, since they’re usually female, my great aunt was sceptical when my mum had me, didn’t think I’d amount to much more than my father. Had the shock of her life when she first held me, said it felt as if I was humming.”

“No doubt the other side of the family helped in some way,” said Gwen with a chuckle.

Ianto smiled ruefully, remembering Gwen’s surprised reaction when he’d sat her down and explained about the recent intruder to the Hub. “You can say that again. No one quite knew what to expect with the Time Lord genealogy thrown in. I’m an aberration of nature, and to be honest – I’m quite proud of it,” he replied with a smirk. “But the point is, she wouldn’t have been taken prisoner that easily.”

“But given Torchwood Four...” interrupted Gwen.

“She could eat them for breakfast and then come back for more. The only explanation is that she let them capture her.”

“But why would she do that?” Jack asked.

“It’s pure supposition, but if someone from Torchwood Four used their abilities against her then she’d have recognised my energy trace. She’s a very curious woman, she wouldn’t have let that go, but she also wouldn’t have risked exposing me by asking too many questions.”

Jack nodded. “It’s a sensible conclusion.”

“If it’s all right with you, Jack, I’d like to see her. It’s been a long time – best part of ninety years.”

“Who am I to keep you from your family?” Jack replied with a grin. “Best make it sooner than later, I’m not sure we’d want to try her patience if she’s as powerful as some of the Carrionites I’ve heard of.”

“Put it this way: she’s no lightweight.” Ianto checked his watch. “I think I’ve missed the last flight out of Cardiff to Glasgow International, it leaves in half an hour.”

“That won’t be a problem,” said Jack, picking up the handset of the telephone. “We’ll just hold it due to ‘unforeseen delays’ until you get there. Go pack a bag, Ianto, you’re off to bonny Scotland. I’ll let the guys know you’ll be at the Armadillo first thing.”

***

A deep furrow had worked its way into the forehead of Stuart Dunston, and Henshaw doubted that even a course of alien-strength botox would restore the smoothness of the man’s skin. The reason for the display of such displeasure sat around a small dining table that obviously wasn’t designed to cater for more than four people at a time. And considering the rest of his team had arrived, and Mary had returned from her clean-up duties, it was a tight squeeze to fit all eight adults.

“You can’t stay here, there’s no room,” Dunston said, his tone stating that even if there had been room, Torchwood Four would not have been welcome.

Mary handed out mugs of strong tea liberally doused with milk – and no offer of sugar – and tutted. “I’ve already booked them into the usual hotel. Stop your whining, Stuart; they’re no keener to stay here than you are to have them.”

“And we’ve Jones arriving in the morning,” Dunston persisted.

“You’d be moaning if he weren’t. You contacted him, so you can’t complain that he thinks he’s remembered something and has decided to come,” she said banging down a mug of tea in front of him. “Now if you don’t mind, I missed the introductions earlier...”

Henshaw suddenly had a new respect for Mary Sinclair – maybe Torchwood Two’s leader did have someone to keep him in line after all. “The twins: Michael and Shaun,” he said pointing at the two blond men; they saluted in unison with their mugs as a hello. “And the brunette is Maria and that leaves us with Rosaline.”

The three woman exchanged nods as a printer fired into action behind them. Mary hastily got to her feet and retrieved the printout. She skimmed the sheet of paper and Henshaw thought that if her eyebrows raised much further they’d be lost in her hairline.

“This job gets fucking weirder by the day!”

Mary slammed the paper on the table. “I’m afraid your tea’ll have to wait. Apparently we have a half-man half-bull rampaging around St Enoch Shopping Centre! And a bloody winged horse at the Central Station.”

Sighing loudly, Dunston put down his mug, stood up and pulled on his coat. “We’re gonna have to split up. Right, Mary, you take the twins and Siobhan in the jag and the rest of you will have to make do with me and Bertha.”

In any other situation Henshaw thought he might have appreciated Bertha, but with the four of them bouncing along in the 1972 series III Land Rover en route to dealing with yet another mythical beast, he would have preferred expediency over fond memories from his youth. Bertha had seen better days, her gear box grumbled at Dunston’s rough handling and her engine whined loudly at speeds in excess of thirty miles an hour. Thankful that they had arrived in one piece, if not a little shaken, Henshaw stumbled out of Bertha as soon as they had come to a halt outside of the glass frontage of St Enoch Shopping Centre.

Henshaw spotted the ashen face of a security guard who was being comforted by a policeman and a paramedic, and was relieved that whatever was inside had at least had the decency to show up outside normal shopping hours. The guard was leaning against Boots’s shop front and didn’t seem to notice Henshaw as he approached him.

“What did you see?” Henshaw asked firmly, but not unkindly.

Slowly the guard appeared to regain his focus; he looked at Henshaw with huge, terrified eyes. “M-m-monster,” he finally stammered.

Sensing that he wasn’t going to get much more of a description, Henshaw asked: “Where did you last see it?”

“Inside.”

“I gathered that,” Henshaw said, managing to keep the irritation out of his voice. “Where inside?”

“Other entrance... by Debenhams.”

He turned back to the others who were waiting expectantly; even Stuart looked like he would be willing to follow Henshaw’s orders. “We could do with patching into the CCTV feed.”

Stuart dug a scanner out of the inside pocket of his coat and pressed a few buttons. He stared at the fuzzy image on the small screen. “Looks like our beastie has a penchant for ladies underwear.”

Henshaw gestured for Dunston to go ahead. “Lead on, Macduff,” he said with a smirk.

“If you're gonna take the piss, you could’ve at least got the fucking quote right!” growled Dunston. He stalked off, his coat flapping and the three others racing to keep up.

Even though the shopping centre was technically closed, it was still well lit from the shop window displays. Normally at this time of night there would have been a small army of cleaners and repairmen working behind the scenes to get the centre ready for the next day, but instead the malls were empty. Cleaning carts and toolboxes had been abandoned in the rush to leave and there was evidence that something had passed this way. Rubbish bins had been turned over, their contents scattered across the floor; benches ripped from their fixings and hurled indiscriminately at shop windows.

Dunston withdrew his gun from its holster hidden under his coat. He looked at Henshaw expecting him to do the same. “We don’t use those kinds of weapons,” said Rosaline, before Henshaw had the chance to reply.

“Well, us mere mortals have to rely on more conventional methods.”

An almighty crash came from somewhere overhead, and without needing telling they sprinted up a nearby escalator to the upper floor of the shopping centre. Henshaw arrived at the top to see a brown blur race past the large hole in Debenhams’s metal security shutters. He jumped back just in time as an empty clothes rail, thrown from the direction of the store, landed in front of him.

“I guess we’ve found our beastie,” drawled Dunston as he came to a halt at Henshaw’s shoulder.

“Yeah, and it isn’t particularly happy by the looks of it.”

The four of them peered into the store at a distance, still unable to get a clear view of whatever it was they were chasing. “Can you get a better look using the CCTV?” Henshaw asked Dunston.

Dunston checked the scanner. “Still rather blurry, but from what I can make out the description was fairly accurate. It’s a bloke with a bull’s head. Great – that’s all this city needs: the fucking Minotaur!”

“If this Debenhams is anything like one where I used to live, he’ll be right at home – they’re bloody mazes,” joked Rosaline, but it fell flat, her timing coinciding with the sound of breaking glass.

“Okay, guys, I suppose a triangular formation is in order. I think an energy mesh is likely to be the easiest option,” said Henshaw to his team. “Dunston? Cover us!”

Henshaw stepped through the hole in the shutters, warily surveying the carnage in front of him. The usually pristine shop floor was littered with clothes and twisted rails that had been thrown around, and a chair stuck out awkwardly from the shattered remains of a glass display cabinet. A loud grunt drew his attention to his left and he turned to see the creature they’d been chasing. Dunston had been right in his description of the beast. Its body was of an athletic man, and all that spared its modesty was a loin cloth and a pair of sandals, but its bull’s head and tail meant there could be no mistaking it as human.

He motioned for his team to follow him in and take their positions so that they stood in a triangle around the beast, while Dunston looked on, Henshaw sensing the other man’s feeling of inadequacy.

This wasn’t new to them anymore; the months since Ianto had linked the team had given them time to really learn each other’s skills and reactions. Without needing to voice the order, Rosaline, Maria and Henshaw all extended their arms. Henshaw was the first to act; his original skills had been in telekinesis – since broadened thanks to his involvement with Torchwood Four – meaning he was able to still the creature, anchoring it in place. Maria and Rosaline sent forth identical energy strands of a pure, white light which weaved and danced around the Minotaur, the strands looping and flowing around each other, tying the beast securely in ropes of energy. It struggled, trying to move, but Henshaw was too strong and the women’s restraints served to hold it tighter the more it fought against them. Finally, it lost its balance and toppled forward, landing heavily on the floor, face down.

They broke their connection and Henshaw looked at the struggling beast, still fighting against its shimmering bonds. “I think we’d better see if that paramedic is still outside – we’re going to need one hell of a sedative.”

***

Siobhan thought she could almost taste its fear. She held her hand out in a way she hoped was non-threatening, walking toward the white stallion that had the most beautiful wings which trembled with apprehension. The right wing looked damaged, it had an awkward bend to it that didn’t appear natural, and Siobhan thought it was probably the only reason the winged horse hadn’t flown away.

Hoping that her experience of handling horses would help, she edged forward, only for the creature to take a step back along the deserted platform of Glasgow’s Central Station. The twins and Mary had stayed back, mindful of the horse’s frightened state, but ready to act on Siobhan’s instruction.

Siobhan made gentle shushing noises and made sure to keep eye contact until, after what seemed an eternity, the winged horse allowed her close enough to touch its face and she gently stroked its nose. Wordlessly she called the twins forward, telling them what she wanted them to do. As she kept the horse distracted, Michael silently edged closer and from his hands spun a ribbon of energy, which Shaun touched, pouring his own power into it to make the ribbon stronger. The horse whinnied as they approached, but Siobhan managed to calm it as the twins slipped the ribbon around its neck, tying it in place and making a rudimentary rein which they handed to Siobhan.

With a little gentle persuasion the winged horse walked forward, Siobhan leading it down the platform. “Thankfully there’s not many people about, we're only gonna need a minimal amount of retcon,” she said to Shaun.

Mary shook her head and sighed as she followed behind. “Great. Where the fuck am I meant to keep this thing?”

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

Ianto wiped away the excess shaving foam with a hand towel and examined his handiwork, checking that there were no erroneous patches of hair or cuts from the razor. He continued with his morning ritual, applying his post-shave cooling balm and adding a small amount of gel to his still-damp hair. Discarding the towel that had been wrapped around his waist after his shower, Ianto padded back into the unremarkable bedroom area of his hotel room to dress, only to be distracted by an incoming call on his mobile.

The caller’s identity was not a surprise. “Morning, Jack.”

“What you wearing?”

Ianto sighed in a put-upon manner. “If I told you that you’d get far too excited.”

“Nothing then?” came Jack’s reply, the leer evident in his voice. “Fresh out of the shower by any chance?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact. But don’t think I’ve time to play, Jack; I’ve got to get to the Armadillo.”

“Aw, you’re no fun, Ianto. Surely you can spare a little time for me? It’s not my fault that I’ve got used to having you about.”

“Then maybe it’s a good job that I’m up here. A dose of cold turkey works wonders to break an addiction.”

Jack chuckled. “You could at least pretend to miss me – even if it’s just a little bit.”

“I’ve had the first night of uninterrupted sleep since Suzie shot herself,” Ianto said, smiling to himself. “Why would I have missed you?”

“If you can’t remember I could remind you.”

“Honestly, Jack, you’re incorrigible!”

“Why, thank you.”

“It wasn’t a compliment.”

Jack’s mock harrumph was comical, but Ianto hoped that Jack might have given up on his attempt at early morning phone sex. “Was there an actual reason why you called?” Ianto asked.

“Not really,” admitted Jack. “Your phone has a camera, doesn’t it?”

“Yes…”

“Then you could send me a photo of you in your birthday suit – just to keep me going ‘til you get back.”

“Goodbye, Jack. I’ll call if anything important happens.”

“Ianto –”

Ianto switched off his phone, throwing it onto the bed and shaking his head. Jack could be a total menace at times, and Ianto was surprised at his own internal realisation that he wouldn’t have Jack any other way. Chasing away the thoughts of mischievous bosses, Ianto dressed in one of the suits he had packed and headed out of the hotel.

The walk to the Armadillo took a matter of minutes, for which Ianto was grateful as the weather was decidedly inclement. He turned up the collar of his coat and thrust his hands into his pockets. Reaching the small hut-like structure that served as the entrance to Torchwood Four, Ianto pushed a large rivet which was basically a well hidden doorbell.

“Ianto?” asked a female voice from a disguised speaker which crackled noisily.

“Yes.”

“Nice and early – great! Do you think you could make your way down on your own or do I need to come and fetch you?”

Ianto recognised Mary’s voice, her brusque attitude the same as ever. “I can manage – just let me in before someone notices me.”

The door slid open and Ianto entered, glad to be out of the rain. He’d been to Torchwood Two twice before. Once with Jack, the other time with Tosh, but on both occasions he’d been there to retrieve long overdue items of alien tech that Stuart Dunston had borrowed but failed to return. Ianto negotiated the service corridors with ease and after taking the lift to the lower levels headed straight to the business area of the Armadillo.

Although a large space, the Armadillo was small in comparison to the Hub, and Ianto couldn’t help but feel a little bit proud of being at the Cardiff branch of Torchwood rather than at Glasgow. One of the main reasons for this was heading towards him. “Jones,” called Dunston. “I take it you can help with our guest. Quite why you couldn’t just tell us over the phone I’ve no idea.”

“Good morning, Stuart,” Ianto replied politely. “I hear the monsters are keeping you busy.”

“You wouldn’t be wrong there,” Dunston grunted. “We’ve bloody Pegasus in a storeroom, and it ain’t too happy.”

“Unless you really have the son of Poseidon in the Armadillo then I think what you actually have is a pterippus,” Ianto said coolly.

“Eh?”

“The name for a winged horse,” explained Ianto.

“You can’t help yourself, can you? You’ve always been a pedant!”

Ianto smirked, but didn’t respond as he was suddenly engulfed by the six members of Torchwood Four. He could feel their energy. So strong, so tempting. It was all too easy to sink into the cocoon of safety and familiarity that had hit him forcibly.

“I suggest you step away from Mr Jones.”

While the other members let go and turned to stare at who had spoken, Ianto felt Henshaw’s arm tighten around his middle. “How did you get out of the cells?” Henshaw demanded.

Kelis looked impassive, and still as beautiful despite having spent a night locked in the cells. “I have no interest in your questions. I do, however, have an interest in the young man you are holding in a far too improper manner for my liking.”

Ianto smiled. She was just how he remembered her, so vibrant and full of life that she rarely had to take no for an answer. Although the addition of a three-headed dog at her feet was new. He moved to step forward but Henshaw’s grip was firm. “You can let me go. It’s fine.”

Henshaw let go of Ianto, but instead of moving away chose to stand in front of him. Without prompting, the other members of Torchwood Four joined him to form a physical barrier between Ianto and Kelis.

Ianto saw Kelis scowl. That was not a good sign. “Look,” she said irritably, “I don’t know what you lot are playing at, but I’m rapidly losing my patience. Step away from the boy.”

“We won’t let you hurt him,” Henshaw stated firmly.

“Who said anything about hurting him?” Kelis looked confused. “I’m not going to hurt him, you misguided fool.”

Ianto thought enough was enough and tried to step out from behind his protectors. “Stay where you are,” ordered Henshaw. “I’ll not have Harkness moaning at me if we return you in pieces!”

Ianto bit back the indigence that rose in his chest. “Philip...”

“Right, that’s it! I’ve given you fair warning.”

“Why can’t you types of people ever take a hint? Still, since I gather you’ve the young man’s best interests at heart I’ll be gentle.” Kelis lifted her arms and reached out her hands, her fingertips stretching towards the ceiling. “Fight valiantly today; and yet I do thee wrong to mind thee of it, for thou art framed of the firm truth of valour.”*

Ianto felt the hair rise on the back of his neck. As a child he’d experienced Kelis’s unique abilities. Nothing sinister, just games to entertain him, but even then he could tell she wasn’t even using the tiniest fraction of the power she had. No wonder some people thought she practised magic; there was nothing easy to rationalise about what Kelis was doing.

The members of Torchwood Four had linked, their connection humming between them. Ianto tried again to be heard, but no one was listening to him. When would the people in his life stop thinking he needed protecting?

One by one Torchwood Four was plucked from the ground and moved out of the way. Ianto saw them struggle powerlessly, unable to comprehend why they couldn’t retaliate. Kelis waved her hand and they floated to the side of the room where she deposited them gently, but still unable to move freely.

“Don’t struggle,” Ianto called. “She won’t hurt me.”

Kelis beamed. “Of course I won’t hurt you, you silly boy. Now come here and give me a hug!”

She held out her arms and Ianto happily embraced her, having to lean down due to the difference in their height. She pulled away and smiled up at him. “Look at you – all grown up. And you look so much like your grandmother. She’d have been so proud.”

“You haven’t changed at all,” he replied in awe.

“Then it’s a good job you benefit from my side of the family. Imagine how wrinkly you’d be if you had inherited your aging skills from your idiot grandfather!”

Ianto chuckled. “I think I'll still be fine for a while yet.”

Kelis waved her hand dismissively. “Let’s not talk about him – leaves me with a bad taste in my mouth. I want to hear all about you – and just what you’ve been doing to make people try and protect you in such a fashion.” She looked over at the shocked faces of Torchwood Four: the oldest of the men, in particular, looked rather dumbstruck. “Not that I’m surprised, even as a baby you had everyone wrapped around your little finger.”

“It’s a rather long story.”

“I’ve all the time in the universe,” she replied with a smile.

“First things first. What are you doing here?”

“I was searching for Floxy,” Kelis said pointing at the dog. “He wandered off and his owner asked me to find him.”

Ianto's brows crinkled. “What about the other creatures?”

“Other creatures?”

“The Loch Ness Monster and the flying horse?” pressed Ianto.

Kelis looked blankly at him. “Ianto, darling, I have no idea what you’re on about.”

***

“There are reports of strange beasts and mythological creatures appearing all over Scotland. Just this minute there’s been a sighting of a gorgon wandering around the car park of a leisure centre in Ayr,” said Gwen, brandishing a piece of paper. “Just what the hell is going on up there?”

Jack looked as perturbed as Gwen. “I’ll call Ianto; see if he’s found out anything more from his auntie.”

Gwen bit her lips, obviously uncertain about what she was going to say. “His great-aunt –she’s a Carrionite, and what Ianto said about them...”

“I know what you’re thinking, Gwen. And yes, there’s a very high possibility that she’s behind it.”

From nowhere a breeze rippled through the papers on Jack’s desk. Gwen looked around, trying to explain what was happening as her hair began whip around her face. A loud humming noise filled the room, pulsing in a strange, almost hypnotic beat.

“Jack, what’s going on?” Gwen shouted over the noise, an edge of panic in her voice.

Jack grinned. “He’s coming.”

TBC

*Henry V Act 4 Scene III


	5. Chapter 5

Standing on the entrance to the invisible lift, Jack smiled broadly as he watched the Doctor trying to appease his companion. His latest was a feisty, red-haired woman, who didn’t look too impressed at her surroundings. “All I’m saying, Doctor, is that when you said you’d show me the universe I didn’t expect to end up in Cardiff!”

“It’s just a minor detour,” the Doctor tried to assure her. “I’ve a... loose end that needs tying.”

“Since when did you care about loose ends?”

Jack stepped off the invisible lift and made his presence known, his heart automatically soaring at the sight of the Doctor’s infectious grin. “Doctor, nice of you to visit,” he called.

“How could I not after the message I received from Martha?”

Jack didn’t answer, preferring instead to get better acquainted with the Doctor’s new companion. “And who might you be?”

“Donna Noble,” she said, giving him a look that said she liked what she saw. “And you?”

“Captain Jack Harkness – at your service.”

“Stop it, both of you,” snapped the Doctor. “We’re not here to add to Jack’s little black book.”

Jack snorted, amused. “Less of the little, if you don’t mind, Doctor.”

He held his arm out for Donna who happily took it, her hand gently squeezing his bicep. “Now if he’d told me we were gonna see such a specimen as you in Cardiff, I’d have been first out the box. Never lets me near the nice ones.”

The Doctor spluttered in the background, but Jack ignored him. “So, fair maiden,” he said, winking, “want to see my subterranean lair?”

“I bet you say that to all the girls.”

“And most of the boys too,” muttered the Doctor darkly.

Without further prevarication, Jack herded the Doctor and Donna onto the invisible lift and activated its mechanism with his wrist strap. He chuckled at Donna’s awe-filled gasps, and even the Doctor let out an impressed murmur when Myfanwy put in an appearance.

Gwen was waiting from them as they came to a halt, her expression halfway between curiosity and concern. It seemed that she wasn’t too sure about the Doctor visiting, even though Jack had assured her he had no intention of heading off on an extended holiday this time. She smiled thinly at their guests. “Can I get either of you a drink? I’m afraid my coffee skills aren't quite up to Ianto’s.”

“Oh, I’d love a cuppa tea,” said Donna.

Jack felt the Doctor grab his elbow as the two women headed towards the small kitchenette in the corner of the Hub. “We need to talk. Now.”

“Let’s go to my office. Since I’m pretty sure I know what you want to talk about.”

Jack shut the door behind them as they entered his office. The Doctor leaned against the desk, his hands in his pockets. “So,” the Doctor began, “I almost crashed the TARDIS when I got the message you asked Martha to pass along. The Master is dead, Jack. I’m sure of it.”

If he was being honest, Jack hadn’t really expected the Doctor to believe him. “Well, I’m sure he’s alive. He was here. Looking very different, but definitely the Master. He’s not someone I’m likely to forget in a hurry.”

The Doctor’s face darkened. “No, I don’t suppose you will.” He absentmindedly toyed with a pen on Jack’s desk. “But it might have been someone masquerading as the Master. Did you consider that?”

“It was definitely him.”

The Doctor frowned. “Come on, Jack. Why would he come here? No offence, but I doubt he’d return to 21st century Earth in a hurry – and he’s hardly likely to come after you.”

Jack tried not to take the Doctor’s words as an insult, but he found it difficult to keep the hurt tone out of his voice. “He wasn’t here to come after me; he was here to see his grandson.”

The Doctor’s jaw actually dropped. “I know I’m an old man, Jack, but I didn’t think there was anything wrong with my hearing until I thought you said ‘grandson’.”

“Believe me, Doc, it was a hell of shock to me as well. It’s not every day a member of your team tells you he’s part Time Lord. And that isn’t even the start of it.”

The Doctor sank heavily into the chair opposite Jack and rested his head in his hands. “I get the feeling this story is going to give me a headache.”

Jack couldn’t help but laugh at the Doctor’s reaction. “Sorry, Doc,” he said in reply to the displeased look he received. “But the long and short of it is, Ianto Jones is no ordinary teaboy.”

“Ianto Jones, I know that name…”

“I might have mentioned him when we last travelled together.”

The Doctor’s smile was back. “Oh, yes, I remember now. Me and Martha thought you might’ve had a bit of a thing for him. Mind you, she thought the same about Gwen as well… and of course you did seem to take a fancy to Professor Yana’s assistant.”

“Yeah, she was cute. But that’s beside the point. The Master was here to see Ianto, and to prevent something happening in the future that he might’ve slightly held against me.”

The Doctor groaned and sat upright in his chair, only to slump down again, his arm crossed over his chest. “He changed the timeline.”

Jack nodded and quickly explained about the appearance of Gray and his attack on Cardiff, which ultimately resulted in the cryogenic freezing of his brother and his assassination at the hands of the Master.

The Doctor listened, interrupting occasionally to ask questions or offer sympathies. He leaned back in his chair as Jack finished speaking. “I’d like to meet him. The Master knows the risks; this Ianto Jones must be someone special if he is willing to go to so much trouble.”

“I would say so.”

“Ah-ha! So you are sweet on him,” the Doctor said with a wink. “I hope the Master didn’t find out or he’d have removed a certain part of your anatomy that you’re particularly fond of.”

“I’m more than sweet on him,” Jack admitted, more to himself than the Doctor. “And it was only Ianto’s intervention that stopped us trying to kill each other.”

“He listened to Ianto?” the Doctor said, shocked.

“The Master did more than listen; he actually did what Ianto wanted.”

The Doctor let out a long whistle. “I don’t know what’s more remarkable: the Master doing what he’s told or that fact that you appear to have found someone to last for more than five minutes.”

“I’ll have you know I’m more than capable of monogamy.”

“Really?” the Doctor asked, surprised.

“Yes, really,” snapped Jack. “We’ve not exactly had the smoothest of rides, But Ianto has made it very clear that I don’t have any more chances left – next time I fuck up I’m out on my ear. I don’t intend for that to happen.”

The Doctor chuckled. “And having a grandfather with a propensity for smiting universes may make any break-up painful on your part.”

“His grandfather has nothing to do with this,” Jack countered, his irritability bleeding into his voice. “I only found out about Ianto’s less than normal family in the last few months; our agreement not to try and kill each other was made after I returned from the Valiant. And as long as my flirting doesn’t cross over Ianto’s Maginot Line of acceptable behaviour, my balls will say firmly in place. And I won’t risk losing something I’ve only recently realised was worth fighting for.”

The Doctor held up his hands in surrender. “I stand corrected. Though I hope you’ve thought this through, Jack. Even with Time Lord genes there’s no guarantee this Ianto of yours will have a longer lifespan than any other human; I fear it will be both our burdens to be alone.”

“He’s currently 102 and doesn’t look a day over 26; I think we can safely say his longevity is more than that of your average Welshman.”

Jack thought the Doctor had taken that snippet of information rather well, only letting out the smallest of gasps. “Of course, it would make more sense if I told you that Ianto’s maternal grandmother was half Carrionite.”

“Bloody hell,” the Doctor exclaimed, calculating genetic algorithms in his head. “He could live for centuries.”

“I'm kinda hoping you're right,” Jack said with a small smile.

“It's still just a blink in the eye compared to you,” the Doctor warned. “But longer than you thought possible, I bet.”

“A definite bonus, and something we’ve yet to discuss fully,” Jack conceded. “Though if I never run into his grandfather again it’ll be too soon.”

“And we return to the reason that brought me here. Where is he?”

Jack shrugged. “Ianto might know, but he seemed it to think it was sufficient for you to know the Master was still alive. I don’t think Ianto would tell you where he was unless the Master was intent on causing more trouble.”

“The crafty old sod must be masking his life force.” The Doctor waved a hand imperiously. “Call in the amazing Ianto Jones. I want to talk to him.”

“He’s not here,” Jack said apologetically. “He’s been called up to Torchwood Two in Scotland to help investigate some strange goings on. And potentially rescue them and Torchwood Four from his great aunt.”

The Doctor looked confused. “Eh?”

“She’s part of the Carrionite branch of the family.”

“Oh,” said the Doctor, nodding. “Well, what are we doing sitting around here when we could be investigating ‘strange goings on’ – a speciality of mine.”

Jack bit his lip. “I’m not sure Ianto would take kindly to us arriving out of the blue...”

“Nonsense,” declared the Doctor. “Donna can stay here and help mind the place with Gwen. We’ll be back before you know it, and you can fill me in on the way.”

Jack had long learnt not to argue with the Doctor, even his life was too short for such a thing. He raced after his friend as he left the Hub, calling out to Gwen that they were off to help Ianto and he’d call as soon as they got to Scotland. Donna rolled her eyes and returned to her cup of tea and copy of Heat magazine, muttering about spacemen and their inability to sit still for five minutes.

The Doctor closed the door to the TARDIS and Jack felt a pang of homesickness now he was back inside the old girl. He brushed the console with his fingertips, thrilled at the gentle hum he received in response.

“After everything you’ve told me, this Ianto Jones sounds truly unrivalled, and now I really, really want to meet him.” The Doctor grinned, pulling at a lever. “Out of interest, does your Ianto look anything like his grandfather?”

Jack laughed. “Certainly not in his current incarnation. Would you believe me if I told you the Master was ginger?”

“Bastard,” the Doctor said, almost affectionately. “I always wanted to be ginger.”

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

Ianto had managed to convince Henshaw and the rest of his team that Kelis really wasn’t a threat – at least to him. And now they were walking arm in arm over Millennium Bridge, leaving the others to cope with another flurry of calls from the local police. Ianto didn’t envy the twins, who’d been sent out after a chimera which was prowling around the tarmac of Prestwick International Airport, in the slightest.

He’d tried to explain his relationship with Torchwood Four to Kelis, but his great aunt had at first looked horrified that Ianto had been held prisoner; then incensed that Ianto didn’t appear to have a problem with being a ‘lackey for a bunch of lacklustre psychic wannabes’, and finally annoyed that Ianto wouldn’t let her have a ‘special talk’ with Philip Henshaw.

“Please tell me it’s not because you’re sleeping with him,” said Kelis, her hands on her hips and looking indignant.

Ianto was thankful that during his adult life he’d never really had to answer questions about his sex life to older relatives. His grandfather had, on the whole, adopted the ‘if I don’t see or hear about it then it’s not happening’ approach. However, Great Aunt Kelis appeared to take the more direct option.

“Not anymore,” Ianto admitted sheepishly.

She raised an eyebrow. “Meaning?”

“Meaning I used to sleep with him, but I don’t any more. We had a rather interesting couple of months after I’d help recruit him to Torchwood Four, but I wasn’t prepared, at the time, to risk a serious relationship with someone who I’d have to watch get old and die.”

“He’s clearly still very fold of you,” she replied with a small smile full of innuendo.

“And I of him. But I’ve learnt the hard way that I was right not to get involved with normal people.”

“I sense there’s a story behind that.” Kelis saw the shutters come down across Ianto’s face. “And one you don’t want to talk about at the moment. But, darling, that’s no life for a beautiful man like you. You should grasp every opportunity – living is painful, love monstrous, but nothing is worse than being continually alone.”

Ianto was surprised how easy it was to talk to Kelis. He wasn’t sure what he had expected having not seen her since he was a child, and her appearance of looking only a few years older than him hadn’t help. But he needn’t have worried; her sharp wit and effortless charm won him over immediately. Strangely, she reminded him of Jack for a second.

“I’m not lonely,” Ianto insisted, and Kelis pulled a face that told him that she didn’t believe a word of what he was saying. “Honestly, I’m seeing someone.”

“Seeing? What do you mean seeing? I’m seeing you at the moment, but that means nothing.”

Ianto rolled his eyes which earned him a slap. “Ow!” he cried, rubbing his arm. “That hurt!”

“It was supposed to. Now explain.”

“I don’t exactly know what to call him exactly. Lover, I guess, would be the closest,” he said honestly. “Neither of us fit into the standard categories, to be honest.”

“Lover is a good term. So much more exciting than boyfriend or husband.” Kelis patted Ianto on the forearm. “Tell me about him.”

Once Kelis had started this line of questioning, Ianto had dreaded her asking about Jack. It wasn’t that he was embarrassed or annoyed, just unsure about how to describe someone as indescribable as Jack. “He’s my boss.”

“Oh, an office romance. How very 21st century Earth.”

“Torchwood isn’t exactly a normal employer, and Jack isn’t your usual boss. You could say he is one of a kind.”

Kelis raised an eyebrow. “Now that does sound intriguing. In what way?”

“He can’t die.”

Kelis stopped in mid stride. “Well, that is different. And does this immortal have a name?”

“Captain Jack Harkness.”

“Harkness,” she repeated, sounding like she’d just stepped in something objectionable.

“You know him?” asked Ianto, aghast and concerned at the expression on Kelis’s face.

“I know of him,” she spat. “He’s an intergalactic lothario, and that’s the nicest thing I’ve heard him called. He left a rather dear friend of mine heartbroken. Mind you, he wasn’t immortal at the time… I found that out later.”

She looked angry, and Ianto was relieved for Jack’s sake that he was safe in Cardiff. He wasn’t sure which was worse, the fact that Kelis had heard of Jack or the fact she’d obviously taken the time to track Jack’s activities. “I’m sure he’s changed since your friend was involved with him.”

“Hmm,” said Kelis, unconvinced. “So you’ve not witnessed that side of him?”

Ianto doubted Kelis would be impressed were he to explain the initial basis of his and Jack’s relationship, or the manner it had continued for the months between Lisa’s death and Jack’s disappearance with the Doctor. “No relationship is perfect,” he admitted cagily, “but I can honestly say that how it stands now I am more than happy.”

“You were always a tight-lipped little bugger.”

“Good thing, considering my job.” Ianto hoped Kelis would let the matter of his love life drop. “Come on, we’d best get back. The hordes of mythological monsters won’t disappear on their own.”

“I don’t see how that’s my problem,” she grumbled, although she allowed Ianto to lead her back towards the Armadillo.

An uneasy feeling settled on Ianto’s shoulders as they rounded a corner and saw the members of Torchwood Two and Four who weren’t out chasing monsters gathered around a very familiar item. Although he’d never seen the TARDIS in person before, two weeks of obsessively watching and rewatching the CCTV footage of Jack’s disappearance made him feel almost intimately acquainted with the Doctor’s time machine.

The door to the blue box opened and a man, who Ianto assumed to be the Doctor, stepped out, closely followed by Jack. “I see you’ve sent a welcome party,” proclaimed the Doctor with a grin.

The Doctor appeared to be searching for someone, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet as he craned his neck. From out of the corner of his mouth he asked Jack: “Which one is he?” But before Jack could answer Ianto saw the Doctor stare straight at him and smile a smile so wide that he made Ianto’s jaw ache just looking at him. “Ah, there he is! I recognised the family cheekbones.”

Ianto didn’t believe it possible for someone to move with so much energy. The Doctor bounded towards him, Jack following in his wake. “Ianto Jones,” he said in awe. From his breast pocket he removed a pair of dark-framed glasses and pushed them on his nose. “I wasn’t sure what to make of the story that Jack here told me about your heritage, but look at you! You’re... remarkable.”

Kelis tutted loudly and Ianto wasn’t sure if he should say something to warn the Doctor. His gut feeling, one honed by an absconding boyfriend and the skewed ideas of his grandfather, made him want to do nothing more than punch the Doctor firmly in the mouth. However, the man was now enthusiastically pumping his hand in greeting and stating what a pleasure it was to meet him.

“Jack’s told me all about you.”

Ianto managed to extract his hand. “You don’t want to be believing everything he tells you, Doctor. Jack has a propensity to exaggerate.”

“Perhaps we should take this inside,” suggested Jack, who nodded his head in greeting towards Dunston and Henshaw.

“Maybe later, I’d like a few words with the wonderful Mr Jones here first.” The Doctor grabbed Ianto by the elbow and began to lead him away. “Don’t worry, Jack. I’ll return him in one piece.”

Kelis moved to stand next to Jack as the Doctor dragged Ianto away from the TARDIS. Jack noticed her immediately, recognising her from the video Torchwood Two had sent of her in the cells. He flashed her the smile, the one calculated to show just the right amount of teeth and ooze enough charisma to ingratiate himself to anyone.

“You must be Ianto’s great-aunt.”

“Yes, and you’re Jack Harkness. Ianto has mentioned you – in passing.”

“I hope it’s all been good.”

She didn’t answer; instead she turned to look at Ianto and the Doctor as they walked away. “There go two very special men.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

“I can understand the Doctor’s attraction – Ianto does seem to have something about him.”

Jack frowned. “The Doctor’s not attracted to Ianto, he’s just excited about meeting him.”

“If you say so,” Kelis replied dismissively. “But you’ll be telling me next that Philip no longer pines after the relationship they had.”

“I beg your pardon,” Jack said, surprised.

“You didn’t know?” she asked innocently. “Surely you can tell just by the way Philip’s looking him?” She nodded at Henshaw who was also watching Ianto walk away.

Jack didn’t consider himself the kind of man who indulged in such trivial things as jealousy, but he found himself unable to shrug off Kelis’s comments. He and Ianto hadn’t discussed their past relationships in detail, which, until this point, Jack had thought was a good thing considering his back catalogue.

Kelis leaned closer. Raising herself onto her tiptoes, she whispered into his ear: “Trifles light as air, are to the jealous confirmations strong, as proofs of holy writ.”*

A bitter taste lingered in Jack’s mouth as he watched his lover walk away. Ianto was his, not the Doctor’s, his so-called friend fawning over a man he had no right to. And God help Henshaw if he even dared touch his Ianto again.

** ** **

Ianto wasn’t happy about being frogmarched away by the Doctor, but he’d read enough about the Time Lord in the archives, and heard so many of Jack’s stories, that he thought resistance would be pointless. If the Doctor was anything like his grandfather then it would be best to let him get whatever it was out of system first and then try to fire fight any disasters afterwards.

“I suppose you’re here to find out about Koschei,” said Ianto frostily as the Doctor stopped, his back against a railing.

“Now there’s a name I’ve not heard for a long time,” replied the Doctor with an air of reminiscence. “There’s not many who call him that.”

“I’m not about to call my grandfather the Master. It’s bad enough other people calling him it.”

“Yes, I suppose that would be a little awkward,” the Doctor conceded, looking slightly unsure of himself. “I have to admit I really can’t see him as much of a family man, but here you here – living proof!”

Ianto sighed long-sufferingly. “I wouldn’t start thinking of him as at all domesticated; he was hardly what my mother wanted as a role model for me.”

“No, I can only imagine the kind of birthday presents you got.”

Despite himself, Ianto couldn’t help but chuckle at the memory of his mother confiscating a lurid purple object that turned the neighbours washing into atoms with an accidental shot. “He was never boring to be around. But then you know that... that’s why you’re here, to find him.”

“Yes, well, initially. But you’re not exactly uninteresting yourself, are you? I can see the mix of Carrionite and Time Lord buzzing around you... so unique.”

The Doctor was reaching out to touch him, but Ianto automatically took a step back. “I’m sorry, but you’ve had a wasted journey. I don’t know where he is at the moment,” he said stiffly.

“You remind me of him. When he was younger, when I first knew him.” The Doctor dropped his hand, placing it on the railing. He turned away to look at the river.

“I’ve been told that there is a resemblance between myself and his original appearance, though that’s where the similarity ends. You’ll be glad to know I’ve not inherited his megalomaniacal traits.”

The Doctor laughed. “And a good job too, I doubt the universe would survive with two of him about.” He turned to look at Ianto over his shoulder, his mood more sombre than seconds before. “If you weren’t going to tell me where he was, why bother telling me he was alive?”

Ianto moved to stand next to the Doctor, mirroring his posture Ianto watched the waters of the Clyde. “Because while he might listen to me occasionally, only you have ever been able to stop him once he’s gone too far.”

“Thank you for telling me,” the Doctor said with a small smile. “But it’s not just Koschei, Ianto. You’re part Time Lord, and even if it’s just a small fraction of what makes you who you are, it makes me feel a little less alone in the universe.”

Ianto didn’t reply, knowing only too well the history of Gallifrey and the Time War. The Doctor straightened up. He put a foot onto the railing and hoisted himself up, looking confused as he stared at the water. “From what Jack told me, isn’t there meant to be a bloody great plesiosaur in there somewhere?”

“Torchwood Four said they’d captured the Loch Ness Monster,” confirmed Ianto. “From what Dunston said she should’ve been around here.”

“I can’t see her, or any sign that a large prehistoric creature has been swimming around.”

“I’m afraid I don’t have my thistle whistle on me at the moment,” said Ianto dryly.

The Doctor didn’t give Ianto any indication that he’d heard his comment as he stroked his chin in contemplation. “And there are others?”

“Not is the same league as Nessie, but there’s meant to be several other supposedly mythological creatures in the Armadillo,” Ianto explained. “I haven’t seen them myself – apart from Floxy.”

“Floxy?”

“The three-headed dog which my great aunt claims to belong to a friend of hers.”

“Three-headed, you say?” Ianto nodded, and without warning the Doctor started walking back in the direction of the TARDIS. “Hmmm. I think I’d like to have a look at these other beasties.”

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *William Shakespeare, Othello, Act III, sc. 3
> 
> A/N: Thistle whistle – am I the only one who remembers the cartoon The Family Ness?


	7. Chapter 7

It suddenly dawned on Ianto why one of the Doctor’s many pseudonyms was The Oncoming Storm. He had often thought of Jack as an unruly tempest, but the Doctor in full stride made Jack look like a gentle breeze.

“Come on, Ianto,” the Doctor called.

“Do you even know where you’re going?” Ianto asked, jogging to keep up.

The Doctor stopped, staring at his surroundings and looking a little lost. “Actually, no.”

“I thought as much. The entrance to the Armadillo is this way,” said Ianto, pointing. “And I happen to know for a fact that’s where they’re keeping the winged horse.”

“One piece of advice, Mr Jones: don’t be too reliant on facts… they’re not always true.”

“And here’s me thinking that by referring to the piece of knowledge I’ve imparted to you as a fact that it must mean it is of reasonable authenticity. Otherwise I may have used other words, such as supposedly or allegedly.”

The Doctor grinned through Ianto’s diatribe. “Oh, you are so Koschei’s grandson.”

Ianto favoured the Doctor with a look so cold that usually it even stopped Jack misbehaving, but it didn’t seem to have any effect on the ebullient Time Lord. With an incoherent mutter Ianto strode away.

“It wasn’t an insult,” the Doctor called after him, catching up almost immediately.

“You are almost as insufferable as Jack.”

The Doctor jostled Ianto with a shoulder. “See – ‘almost’, not ‘more than’. I’m taking that as a compliment.”

Waiting for them as they approached the disguised entrance of the Armadillo was Jack, in all his broody, posturing glory. Ianto was more than a little disturbed at his lover’s expression. If he didn’t know better he would have thought the black looks Jack was shooting were aimed at the Doctor.

“There you are,” Jack snapped. “I was beginning to think you were never coming back.”

Before Ianto could answer he was pulled roughly into Jack’s arms and kissed fiercely, the possessiveness pouring out of the kiss in waves. Somehow, more luck than skill, Ianto manage to escape Jack’s clutches, but Jack refused to completely set him free, one arm remaining around his waist.

“What’s got into you?” Ianto asked, feeling a mix of concern about Jack’s behaviour and the prickling of embarrassment at being so effectively claimed by Jack in front of the Doctor.

“Nothing,” replied Jack brusquely. “Can’t a man kiss his lover?”

“Kiss him, yes. Try to remove his lungs through his mouth, no,” joked the Doctor.

“I wasn’t aware I needed your permission.”

Ianto’s felt Jack’s grip tighten, almost painfully. His brow crinkled at Jack’s reaction to the Doctor’s joke. Jack seldom behaved this hostilely, and from the rare occasions Ianto had witnessed it he knew a direct confrontation was no way to deal with Jack.

“I was just about to show the Doctor the storeroom where Mary’s keeping one of the creatures they’ve captured.”

Jack’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll come with you.”

“There’s really no need...” Ianto began.

“I insist.”

“More the merrier,” proclaimed the Doctor, who was also beginning to look a little concerned about Jack’s behaviour.

Very deliberately, Ianto removed Jack’s arm from around his waist and, although Jack obviously wasn’t happy, he didn’t say anything. He did, however, stay close as they entered the Armadillo, inserting himself between Ianto and the Doctor as they navigated the service tunnels, only stepping to one side once they reached their destination.

Ianto drew back the three sturdy bolts that held the door closed. Jack motioned for both the Doctor and Ianto to stand behind him, and Ianto was in some way relieved at this demonstration of the type of protectiveness he was used to from Jack. In his typical hero fashion Jack pulled open the door, but slightly less heroically he gasped, “Wow!”

Ianto leaned to stare past Jack. The large room was completely empty, but something was clearly grabbing Jack’s attention. He looked over at the Doctor, but he too wore the same look of confusion that Ianto thought graced his own face. “Er... Jack, what are you looking at?”

Jack looked at Ianto incredulously. “The winged horse,” he said as if speaking to a rather stupid child.

“There’s nothing there.”

Jack’s expression changed immediately to that of concerned consternation. “Ianto, it’s right in front of you. It’s so close I’m surprised you can’t feel its breath on your face.”

“Jack,” the Doctor said, “Ianto’s right. There’s nothing in this room.”

“But...” Jack was reaching up with his right hand, seemingly stroking something the other two couldn’t see. “I can feel it.”

Ianto reached out but his hand passed through the air, not connecting with anything. Instead he placed his hand on Jack’s arm. “Let’s get out of here.”

The Doctor nodded. “I think we should have a look at these other creatures that are also supposed to be here.”

Gently, Ianto pulled Jack out of the storeroom and the Doctor closed the door and slid the bolts back across. “The rest of the menagerie is in the cells,” explained Ianto. “But before we go there I want a quick word with Philip, and Jack can introduce you to the others.”

“Why?” asked both Jack and Doctor simultaneously. They were both scowling, their brows wrinkled and their lips pursed.

Ianto was more confused than ever. He’d sensed a slight element of jealousy from Jack about Philip when they’d first met, but the Doctor had no reason – or right – to act in the same way. “I mean,” the Doctor said, “he’s Torchwood Four. What they did to you is tantamount to slavery. Why involve him unnecessarily?”

“I think I’ll be the one to decide what is unnecessary or not,” Ianto replied carefully. “And since Philip, like Jack, could see the winged horse and we couldn’t, maybe we can use Torchwood Four’s unique talents to investigate further.”

“But...” began Jack, intent on arguing.

Unprepared the listen to either of the other two argue over his rationale, Ianto walked briskly away, back towards the main area of the Armadillo. A clatter of footsteps behind him assured him that Jack and the Doctor were following, and although they might not like his association with Torchwood Four there was nothing either of them could say which would change his mind. The Doctor, a man who he’d only met a few hours before, had no right to question him; and Jack, Ianto grumbled to himself internally, really needed to learn to trust his judgement – in regards to Torchwood Four at least.

Ianto found Philip and Dunston engaged in not quite a quarrel but more than a heated debate. Ianto wasn’t exactly sure what they were vociferously discussing but it ended as Mary handed Dunston a file and a dirty look.

“Philip,” Ianto called. “Do you have moment? There something I think we need to discuss.”

“Of course.”

Ianto took hold of Philip’s elbow and led him out of earshot of the others. “I think there’s something strange going on.”

Philip chuckled. “What, more strange than capturing mythological beasties?”

“Actually, yes,” said Ianto slightly peevishly. “I can’t see them. There’s no Loch Ness Monster in the Clyde and Pegasus is not lodging in the lower levels.”

“Ianto, you’ve always had a very odd sense of humour, but this is neither the time nor the place.”

“I’m not joking. You, and everyone else apart from the Doctor, can see something I can’t. So either everyone is imagining things or it’s me and my more interesting genetics.”

Ianto knew Philip had seen into his mind when they had been lovers, inadvertently discovering Ianto’s heritage during a rather intimate moment. It had been one hell of a mood killer and although they had discussed it briefly, they had never mentioned it since. Philip’s silence had always been appreciated, and a necessity in order to keep Torchwood Four’s lynchpin safe.

“I see,” said Philip carefully. “We could do a mutual mind scan. We know each other well enough to recognise if something is amiss.”

Kelis looked on with mild interest when Ianto arrived, followed closely by Harkness and the Time Lord. The Doctor was instantly greeted by Dunston, and he listened politely enough about Torchwood Two, while all the time only Ianto truly held his attention. Unlike the Doctor, Harkness was nowhere near as subtle, hanging back to watch Ianto and Henshaw talk. He wasn’t close enough to hear, but if looks could kill then Henshaw would have been dead the minute Ianto had opened his mouth to talk to him. Kelis smiled and walked over to stand next to Jack.

“See, I told you,” Kelis whispered into Jack’s ear. “You can almost taste the chemistry between them. Even the Doctor can see it.” She nodded in the direction of the Time Lord, who, although he was pretending to listen to Dunston, was just as engrossed as Jack in watching Ianto and Philip walk to a quieter area of the room.

She smirked at Jack’s dark expression and said: “The blood of youth burns not with such excess as gravity’s revolt to wantonness.”*

Jack’s lip curled involuntarily into a sneer as he watched his Ianto talking to Henshaw. How could have been so blind not to have noticed Torchwood Four’s leader’s desire for Ianto? He should have realised that Ianto’s involvement in this case had less to do with Kelis and more to do with Henshaw’s need to get closer to Ianto.

Before Jack could stop himself he was striding towards them, reaching out and grabbing Henshaw’s shoulder so they stood face to face. And then he pulled back his fist and hit Henshaw as hard as he could in the jaw. “I know what you’re up to,” snarled Jack. “You had your chance, he’s mine now.”

“Jack!” screamed Ianto. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Ianto pushed Jack away, and then sank to his knees to check Philip was okay.

Jack staggered slightly and shook his head as if to clear his thoughts. “I... Ianto...” he said sounding confused. He lost his balance and stumbled to the floor.

Philip appeared none the worse for wear, apart from the beginning of a bruise across his jaw. Dunston now also crouched down to check if he was all right, and the Doctor was peering over the scene, content to watch and not get involved for once.

Jack clutched at his head, and Ianto wrenched his attention away from Philip, his annoyance evaporated at seeing Jack’s condition. Jack’s eyes were unfocused, he was confused and disorientated. “What happened?” Jack asked, his words slightly slurred. “Why am I on the floor?”

Ianto grabbed his chin and looked into Jack’s eyes. “You punched Philip.”

Jack looked as if he couldn’t grasp what Ianto was saying. “But why would I do that?”

“You tell me?”

“I...”

Ianto gently stroked Jack’s head and pulled him closer. “You’re not quite yourself at the moment, are you?”

Jack made a non-committal grunt and staggered to his feet. Ianto stood with him, steadying Jack as he wavered a little. “I think I need to lie down a while.”

Mary appeared at their side, and she gave Ianto a sympathetic smile. “Come with me, Jack,” she said calmly, taking his arm. “There’s a bed out the back you can use.”

Happy that Jack allowed himself to be led away by Mary, Ianto offered Philip a hand and pulled him to his feet. “I’m sorry about Jack. This isn’t normal behaviour for him.”

“I never took Harkness to be the jealous type.”

“He’s not – usually.”

Ianto spotted Kelis out of the corner of his eye, she was watching Jack leave, an odd expression on her face. A long dead memory from his childhood involving his grandfather stirred but failed to fully form, and Ianto thought another conversation was needed between himself and his great-aunt in the imminent future.

“If you’re feeling up to it, can we do the scan now?” asked Ianto, conscious that Philip was rubbing his jaw.

“I’m fine. I think my pride hurts more than anything else.” He smiled weakly at Ianto and their audience. “But I think we’d best use Dunston’s office – for a bit of privacy.”

Dunston muttered something that could have been an affirmative, or maybe telling them very rudely what he thought of the idea, but Philip was already guiding Ianto to the small area across the other side of the room which could be sealed off by a shabby looking curtain. The Doctor, Ianto noticed, was scowling again.

Philip drew the curtain and pressed a small blue button on Dunston’s desk. The curtain shimmered and Ianto raised a curious eyebrow in Philip’s direction. “It’s a dampening field,” he explained. “Dunston demonstrated it to me earlier during one of the less heated discussions.”

The office area was little more than a small desk, a filing cabinet and two chairs, the last of which Philip was arranging so they could sit opposite each other and close enough that their knees would almost be touching.

“It probably wasn’t prudent telling Jack that we were once lovers,” said Philip, sitting down. He rolled up his sleeves and reached forward placing the fingertips of each hand on either side of Ianto’s forehead.

Ianto copied Philip’s actions so they sat opposite each other cradling each other’s head. “I didn’t tell him, which is odd in itself. Besides, he shouldn’t have reacted that way. I’m far too old for him to expect me to be a virgin before we slept together, and it really isn’t in Jack’s character to be overly jealous.”

“And it’s not like you’d throw him over for me.”

“If you’re fishing for compliments, Philip, you’ve come to the wrong place,” Ianto said, smirking. “We did have fun while it lasted, it just didn’t last that long.”

Philip chuckled. “Oi, a guy could get a complex.”

Ianto’s eyelids fluttered closed as he felt Philip probe his mind. He had to concentrate hard not to raise his shields as Philip explored the crooks and crannies of his consciousness. Philip’s touch was gentle, like an experienced lover dealing with a skittish bed-mate.

“Your shields have really improved,” murmured Philip as he tried to concentrate.

“Jack taught me a couple of tricks.”

“I bet he did, but what about your shields?”

“Ha, ha,” deadpanned Ianto in reply. “Found anything?”

“No. Your turn.”

Ianto had always found this sort of thing difficult. He wasn’t naturally gifted, and it had taken several years of training during his teens before he could even scratch the surface of someone else’s thoughts. He’d had some, but not a great deal, of practise over the years, and it was now only the familiarity of Philip’s mind, and the other man repressing his psychic abilities, that allowed Ianto access. The other members of Torchwood Four often forgot he wasn’t like them; he was a conduit for their energy, a facilitator of their gifts and not a practitioner in his own right.

“You’re thinking too much,” warned Philip gently.

Rifling through someone mind was not something Ianto had ever grown accustomed to. It was like flicking through a very large, uncategorised scrapbook. He was careful not to linger long enough to witness or trigger actual memories as it was the overall feeling of Philip’s mind that he was trying to assess. There was nothing that sat out of place or felt awkward; no alien energy or human-caused damaged present that could alter the recognisable landscape before him.

Ianto withdrew. “All normal.”

“Well, it was worth a try. Always best to rule out the obvious first.”

They emerged from the office to see Kelis, the Doctor and Dunston examining a bank of CCTV screens. The Doctor was shaking his head and Dunston looked frustrated. “I can’t see what you’re talking about,” insisted the Doctor.  
Dunston pointed at one of the screens. “It’s right there.”

Ianto had to agree with the Doctor. “I can’t see it either, but I’m getting the feeling we’re in the minority.”

On the far monitor, Ianto caught sight of the Torchwood Four twins returning. They appeared to be doing something between a mime act and an interpretive dance. “What are they up to?” he asked, squinting at the screen.

“They’re bringing back one of old Cerby’s siblings. That’s a chimera,” explained Dunston. “Looks a wee bit frisky. I might as well go up and give them a hand.”

Kelis looked as bemused as Ianto felt. “You can’t see the chimera either?” Ianto asked.

“No,” she said very quietly. “There is nothing there. What we should be asking is why they can see something, not why we can’t.”

For the first time the Doctor noticed the three-headed dog who sat panting heavily at her feet. He crouched down and petted one of Floxy’s heads, careful to avoid the drool. “Well, aren’t you a handsome young man?” He looked up at Kelis. “He’s a Flaxian Dabble dog, isn’t he?”

“Yes,” she replied with affection. “Mad as anything and very forgetful... capable of getting lost in his own kennel.”

The Doctor hummed distractedly. “Then why does everyone around here think he’s the mythological hell hound known as Cerberus?”

TBC

*Love's Labour’s Lost, Act V, Scene II


	8. Chapter 8

In all the time he had worked with Jack, Ianto had never seen his lover affected in such a way. Yes, there had been occasions when Jack had tested his immortality to its limits, but Ianto couldn’t recall an instance when Jack had been forced to lie down to recover from a seemingly non-life threatening complaint.

Ianto sat on the edge of the small camp bed Jack had been guided to after his earlier altercation with Philip. “Feeling better?”

“A little,” Jack replied, sitting up. “My head feels like someone’s been using my skull for a speakeasy.”

“Want to tell me why you suddenly felt the need to punch Philip?” Ianto asked, reaching out to brush Jack’s hair out of his eyes.

Jack looked embarrassed, which was another rarity. “I can’t really explain it. One minute I’m talking to your great-aunt, the next I’m so consumed with jealousy that I can’t stop myself.”

“You’re not usually jealous. In fact, the last time someone tried to chat me up in a bar you invited them to play.”

“I told you I was only joking, I wouldn’t have actually acted on it,” Jack defended with a grin. “And I certainly remember you enjoying my heartfelt apology.”

“Yes, well, never mind that. What I want to know is what Kelis actually said to you before you waded into my perfectly innocent conversation.”

Jack scrunched his eyes together, clearly trying to recall. “I can’t remember. I’m sorry, Ianto. Once the green-eyed monster came to visit she could have been offering me a sex change with extra tentacles and I wouldn’t have heard her.”

“Actually, I think she might have something to do with it,” Ianto admitted apologetically. “She was the only one here who knew that I was involved with Philip when he was younger, and since you now know she must have told you. If there’s one thing Kelis is, it’s vengeful. Not to mention determined and overly protective of anyone who is either a friend or family.”

Jack looked puzzled, then horrified. “Jesus, Ianto, what have you told her about us that could make her think I should be removed from your picture?”

“Nothing,” Ianto insisted, irritated that he seemed to be on the defensive when he hadn’t any reason to be. “I didn’t have to say anything. She told me she knew you through a friend – a friend you left in the lurch, so to speak.”

The noise of someone clearing their throat interrupted the conversation. Ianto turn to see the Doctor. “I thought I'd see how Jack was doing,” he said as a means of explaining his presence. “I also thought I could see if there was any physical reason why we can’t see what the others are seeing.”

Ianto stood up. “I’ve already established that there’s nothing wrong with me.”

“That...er... thing you did with what’s-his-name.”

“Philip,” Ianto automatically corrected.

“Yes, yes,” said the Doctor, dismissively waving his hand. “But I doubt he’d have taken any of your Gallifreyan characteristics into account.”

“I doubt it’s anything to do with that side of my physiology, otherwise Kelis wouldn’t be able to see them either.”

Jack was scowling, but Ianto could see his lover working hard to bite down on his jealousy. “Perhaps it’s because you’re not completely human,” Jack suggested.

“Neither are you,” Ianto replied, raising an eyebrow.

“Hey, I’m more human than you are. Probably about ninety-five percent, and that’s due to the human genome of my time – not the fact my grandparents were off-worlders.”

Ignoring Jack for a moment, Ianto spoke to the Doctor: “If you honestly think that it’s because I’m part alien then I should go and get Kelis.”

“Maybe, we should test my theory first,” the Doctor said hopefully, reaching out to place a hand on Ianto’s shoulder.

“I don’t think so, Doctor.” Ianto gave him a wry grin and looked over to Jack who was practically snarling. “Jack is agitated enough as it is. And the last I thing I want is for him to punch you as well.”

Ianto left, leaving Jack and the Doctor alone. Jack examined his friend who was looking wistfully back in the direction Ianto had disappeared. Suddenly a sense of foreboding grew within him. “The last time I saw you this infatuated with anyone, it was Rose,” he said quietly.

The Doctor had the good grace to look embarrassed. “Jack... I...er...”

“You have got it bad if he’s left you speechless,” Jack joked, but his tone was humourless. “Why him?”

“I’m not sure I can explain it to you without me coming across as more of a bastard than you already think I am.” The Doctor sighed at Jack’s unimpressed expression. “But I guess that’s not going to stop me having to, is it?”

“No,” Jack replied flatly. “But be prepared that if you tell me this... crush... you have for my lover is because of his grandfather, I may not be responsible for my actions.”

“Give me some credit, Jack; I’m not that shallow. Yes, Ianto does have more than a passing resemblance to how Koschei looked when I first knew him, and yes, I’d be lying if I wasn’t slightly attracted to the old devil, but that’s where it ends. I look at Ianto Jones and I see his skewed genetics that should be oh so very, very wrong, but instead he is so very, very right.”

Jack swallowed thickly. “Just what’s so right about him?” he asked, trying not to sound as bitter as he felt. Trying not to remember being told how wrong he was, and not to feel jealous that the Doctor deemed Ianto perfect. Just of whom he was jealous he couldn’t decide.

“Jack, this isn’t about you. I’m sorry, but I can’t help what I feel. Ianto, like you, shouldn’t exist, but the miracle of combining Carrionite and Gallifreyan DNA has resulted in a human hybrid with a unique place in the universe. He’s an amazingly impossible thing that I just can’t turn my back on.” The Doctor smiled. “Oh, the wonders I could show him. Do you think he’d agree to travel with me?”

“No, I’m not interested.” Ianto had returned, Kelis in tow, both of them looking decidedly put out. “No disrespect, Doctor, but if I wanted to travel with a Time Lord I would have taken my grandfather up on his offer.”

“But, Ianto, think of the possibilities,” the Doctor implored. “The universe is out there waiting to be explored.”

“And it’ll still be there when – if – I decide I want to explore it. Thank you for the offer, but for now I’m happy where I am.”

“But...”

Ianto turned away from the Doctor; now wasn’t the time. “Jack, Kelis has something to say to you.”

He looked meaningfully at his great-aunt and she sniffed noisily and smiled thinly at Jack. “I believe I may have inadvertently caused you some distress. Ianto thinks I may have judged you a little harshly and I may have acted hastily in my desire to protect the boy.”

She sighed noisily, laid a hand on Jack’s shoulder and said: “Virtue and cunning were endowments greater than nobleness and riches. Careless heirs, may the two latter darken and expend; but immortality attends the former, making a man a god.”*

Jack’s eyes widened and a sudden wave of mortification mixed with anger and incredulity hit him hard. He was on his feet in an instant, looming over Kelis who didn’t look the slightest bit intimidated. “You!” he accused. “What in hell did you do to me?”

“What do you think I did to you, you mutated ape?” spat Kelis. “I manipulated the thoughts you already had and exaggerated them. I can hardly be held accountable if you have trust issues.”

“Kelis,” warned Ianto, “you are supposed to be apologising.”

She sighed overly dramatically. “Fine. Like I have already said I may have over-reacted, but I am willing to accept – for Ianto’s sake – that I was wrong.”

Jack stepped back, realising that this was as close to an explanation or a true apology he was going to get. “Ianto does have that effect on people,” he said carefully.

Kelis smiled softly. “It is difficult not to feel protective; he is the last of my closest relatives. I won’t say sorry for wanting to keep my family safe. God knows, he has enough to contend with, considering his bloody grandfather.”

Jack laughed, Ianto groaned and the Doctor appeared uncomfortable to be in the middle of something that really didn’t concern him.

“Right, back to business,” the Doctor said matter-of-factly, amused in part by Kelis and Jack’s antics and the look of resignation on Ianto’s face. “If we assume that it is something about our alien nature not allowing us to see these mythological creatures we could also assume that something is outwardly affecting the human population.”

“Potentially,” agreed Ianto. “Wouldn’t exactly be the first time someone had malicious intentions towards the Earth.”

“So when did the first creature appear?”

“There was a sighting of the Loch Ness Monster in the Union canal, followed moments later by the arrival of Cerberus – sorry Floxy – and Kelis,” Ianto informed the Doctor.

Kelis frowned. “I have already told you, you impertinent child, that I have absolutely nothing to do with this.”

“Maybe not intentionally, but something must have happened. And just how did you happen to appear in a Glaswegian park out of nowhere?” asked Ianto, trying to placate his great-aunt.

“I was trying to find Floxy. I opened a pan-dimensional doorway. Don’t look at me like that, Ianto Jones. You don’t know half the things I’m capable of, and you’re not too old to go over my knee!”

Ianto stilled his features, hopeful he’d removed his look of disbelief. “Sorry, Auntie. And what happened next?”

“I come through and I’m surrounded by a selection of humans who thought they’d be able to take me prisoner.” She rolled her eyes in contempt, making Jack wonder if it was a family trait. “They prattled on and mentioned Torchwood. I might not have seen you in a while, Ianto darling, but I have been being keeping an eye on you.”

The Doctor sucked his teeth, his bottom lip sticking out in a ridiculous fashion. “So what were Torchwood Four doing when Kelis and Floxy came through the doorway? I mean there must have been a reason they were standing around in a park on a Saturday evening – and Philip Henshaw doesn’t strike me as a swings and roundabouts type of man.”

“Not that sort, anyway,” muttered Ianto, who was very pleased to see Jack’s saucy grin as he nudged Ianto playfully.

“Ianto,” admonished Kelis, “behave yourself!”

“Sorry,” Ianto said, smirking. “From what Philip told me they were investigating readings from something they thought could be a psychic bomb.”

The Doctor’s eyes widened comically, he turned on his heel and ran from the room. Jack, Ianto and Kelis exchange a quick bemused look before chasing after him. Ianto led the pack, wondering what it was about long-lived men in long coats that meant he spent a large portion of his life running down corridors.

They emerged into the main area of the Armadillo. The Doctor grabbed Henshaw by the biceps. “Tell me, did you diffuse the bomb?”

TBC

Kelis quotes: *Pericles Prince of Tyre (Cerimon at III, ii)


	9. Chapter 9

The Doctor crouched down, his fingers running over the surface of a cylindrical metal object about the size of an average bath tub and his sonic screwdriver clenched between his teeth. Jack and Ianto were at his side, while the members of Torchwood Two and Four were in the immediate surrounds, ensuring that the other visitors to Queen’s Park were being kept at a safe distance.

“Clever,” the Doctor finally said, removing his screwdriver from his mouth and wiping its damp end on his jacket.

“Just what are we looking at? All I can see is a patch of mud,” asked Jack tersely.

The Doctor looked to Ianto. “Can you see it?”

“Yes. It’s rather like a large tin can with lots of flashy lights.”

“An accurate and fair description,” the Doctor said with a grin. “Although its physical appearance belies its capabilities.”

Ianto got the impression the Doctor wasn’t just talking about the artefact and cleared his throat to cover his embarrassment. “So it’s a psychic bomb. Meaning what exactly?”

“Not just any old psychic bomb,” the Doctor said, standing up.

“Of course not,” muttered Ianto darkly. “When do we ever get anything that’s standard issue? Is it designed differently, or are we just lucky and it’s malfunctioning?”

The Doctor rubbed the back of his head with his hand and grimaced. “Bit of both, I’m afraid. On the surface it looks like a Perigalic 21-100, but there’s definitely been some modifications to the basic model. Then to make matters worse those changes have caused some peculiar interactions with the energy from the pan-dimensional doorway Kelis used.”

Ianto held up a hand to stop the Doctor continuing. “Not wanting to sound rude, but that came across as a load of old gobbledegook. Please say that again, slower and in English this time.”

“Basically, Ianto, this here bomb isn’t doing what it’s designed to do. Or rather it is, but it’s doing it too well.”

“Doctor…” Ianto warned, raising an eyebrow.

“The device works on basic psychic projection,” the Doctor said with a wave of his hand. “It’s meant to act on a localised area – affecting anyone in a radius of, oh, say about five meters. It’s supposed to be used as a distraction in combat situations – not to bamboozle innocent Scottish civilians.”

“So what happened to make it act contrary to how it was designed?”

The Doctor shrugged. “Well, they’re not the most reliably built devices in the galaxy, but I don’t think it was solely due to shoddy assembly. Most likely it overloaded, looking at the charring to the circuitry, and sent out one big burst of energy, probably hitting some unsuspecting tourist and causing good old Nessie to appear in the canal from their imagination. Then when Kelis arrived, the additional energy leached from the doorway allowed the bomb to continue operating.”

“I knew it had something to do with her, even if it was unintentional.” Ianto sighed heavily.

“To be fair, Ianto, as well as Kelis, the presence of Siobhan and Philip when it happened only made things worse. Their initial assessment of Floxy as Cerberus cemented the idea of mythological beasts, especially as there was already a canal-bathing plesiosaur in the vicinity. Their psychic ability acted as an additional carrier wave.”

“Right,” said Ianto, hands on his hips, “what are we going to do about it? I take it that it’s not going to be a case of simply turning the bloody thing off.”

“’Fraid not,” said the Doctor with a sympathetic smile. “Even if the isolator circuits weren’t frazzled beyond recognition, the additional energy this thing is using means the off switch wouldn’t work.”

“Typical!” Ianto scowled. “I don’t suppose you have any idea about what might work?”

The Doctor rubbed his chin contemplatively, looking between Ianto and the bomb in a calculating manner. He spun around on his heel to watch the other Torchwood employees bicker between themselves and to see Kelis staring straight back at him, her expression unbearably smug.

Kelis joined Ianto at his side and beckoned Henshaw to join them. “Come on, Doctor,” she purred. “Put it all together in that lovely big brain of yours.”

The Doctor frowned and then his expression morphed into a huge infectious grin. “Oh, it’s easy-peasy when you really think about it. Ianto, with his Carrionite heritage, can act as a conduit between Torchwood Four and Kelis, and between them they’d be able to siphon away the additional energy. We’ll be done in no time.”

“It won’t work,” said Ianto flatly. “I know the capabilities of Torchwood Four, and I now think I have a good idea about what Kelis can do – they’re not compatible.”

“You’re forgetting something, darling,” said Kelis, taking hold of Ianto’s hand. “Your physiology.”

“I have already taken that into account,” he ground out, his exasperation clear in his voice. “There’s not enough Carrionite in me to bridge between you and the circle members. I’m not built to do what the Doctor is suggesting.”

“Rubbish!” she snapped. “When Torchwood ensnared you they didn’t have enough understanding with what they were dealing with. You have been unnaturally limited by their lack of comprehension.”

“No,” said Ianto firmly. “I have no desire to be any more abnormal than I already am.”

“Abnormal,” Kelis seethed. “You are unique – a marvel. I won’t stand here and listen to you belittle yourself based on your inferior human conditioning. I knew, Ianto Jones, when I first held you as a baby, that you would be astonishing. You’re more than capable of carrying out the Doctor’s request.”

“You can’t know that,” he replied, tight-lipped and uncertain. “I have no idea…”

Before he could finish, Kelis grabbed him, her hands either side of his head and staring pointedly into his eyes. “The mind I sway by, and the heart I bear, shall never sag with doubt, nor shake with fear.”*

Ianto gasped as what felt like a sea of ice washed across his mind. The world around him bled away, colours and shapes merging in front of his eyes and he was carried away on a rollercoaster ride of optical illusion and misdirection. A buzzing noise distracted him, an incessant whine that was getting louder and louder, like an angry wasp trapped in an empty jam jar. A blinding flash of white assaulted Ianto, and slowly the world around him righted itself. But now his body was alive and thrumming with a type of energy he’d never felt before.

“What have you done?” he croaked at Kelis.

“Something that should have been done years before,” she replied. “But I’m not sure if this is a temporary or a permanent change – we must act now in case you begin to revert.”

Ianto grabbed her shoulders. “I meant it, Kelis, what have you done to me?” he demanded more forcefully this time.

She smiled softly. “All I have done is opened your mind to your potential, Ianto. You’ve advanced synapses from your Carrionite biology that you aren’t utilising fully. For now all it will mean is that you can link me to your Torchwood friends, but it is an indication of what you might be able to do in the future – with the right training.”

Ianto nodded, barely, and turned to look at the Doctor. “Whatever you have in mind we’d better do it fast. I’m still not sure what Kelis has done to me, but I do know I can bridge between her and Torchwood Four – I just don’t know for how long.”

The Doctor rubbed his hands together enthusiastically. “Your great-aunt is right, Ianto. You’re a marvel!”

Gently, the Doctor manoeuvred Ianto to stand at the edge of the bomb, whilst calling out to the members of Torchwood Four to take their place in a circle around him. “I’m assuming this is how this works,” he said to Ianto, “since you’ve been calling them circle members.”

“You’re very perceptive,” drawled Ianto in reply.

Kelis didn’t need the Doctor to position her. She walked straight up to Ianto and slid her arms around his waist, her head tucking under his chin due their height difference.

The Doctor began to walk around the perimeter of the circle. “Right, listen up. You Torchwood guys, I want you to start draining the energy out of the bomb–”

“What bomb?” asked Henshaw, nonplussed. “All I can see is Ianto and Kelis.”

“If I’m right, once you link to Ianto the device at his feet will become visible to you and your team. Surely you can feel the energy?”

“There's definitely something,” conceded Henshaw, although he didn’t look particularly happy.

The Doctor continued, seemingly undeterred by the interruption. “Okay, like I was saying. You will channel the energy from the bomb to Ianto who will in turn act as a bridge so Kelis can… actually, Kelis, what will you be doing?”

She craned her neck to look at the Doctor but didn’t let go of Ianto. “The pan-dimensional doorway is very much like the Rift in many respects, although a little more controlled. The problem is that the energy powering the bomb is leaking in under the door, so I intend to block it out – like a draft excluder. While I start Torchwood can begin to siphon away from the bomb. Between us all we can return the energy from whence it came and in the same state.”

Jack frowned, in part annoyed that he felt he had been sidelined in the operation. “And if it’s not in the same state?”

“There’s going to be an Earth-sized hole in this solar system,” replied Kelis with a smile.

“No pressure then,” joked Siobhan, which garnered a snort of amusement from the twins.

“Just be grateful young Ianto can link us together. I can’t do this on my own, and you wouldn’t stand a chance of stopping this without me.”

The Doctor clapped his hands together to get everyone’s attention, and Jack retreated a few steps to stand between Dunston and Mary. “When you’re ready...” the Doctor called.

Ianto closed his eyes, apprehensive. This wasn’t like the other times he’d joined with the circle. Kelis’s presence was new and vaguely unsettling in a way he couldn’t describe. The circle was connecting – he didn’t need to see the prongs of lightning-like power that were racing between them to know it was happening. He didn’t need to hear the humming of their collective energies to know in that in mere seconds they would be one.

When the first bolt of energy hit Ianto knew it was Philip, the sensation was warm and rich, very much like the man himself. But unlike previously he could feel more, a depth of understanding that he’d never witnessed before. An unbidden knowledge of the man, from the trivial to the fundamental, ensconced him and Ianto couldn’t believe just how many layers made up Philip Henshaw. He thought he had known his ex-lover, but now Ianto knew he had only the seen the surface of Torchwood Four’s leader.

A second stream of energy hit, this one unmistakably Siobhan. He sensed her worry for him, her concern that everything had to go right, and yet a belief they could succeed. He recognised her tenacity and then was surprised to feel an undercurrent of divine femininity that he would never have associated with Siobhan. Yes, she was a mother hen, but no earth goddess, yet her powers were undoubtedly linked to something deeper than mere mental aberrations could explain.

One by one the circle formed, and each new member gave Ianto a new insight about them. The twins, so similar on the surface, were so different underneath; Maria hid her uncertainty about her place in Torchwood Four with dark humour, Ianto recognised that he did exactly the same on a daily basis in the Hub. And finally, the new girl, Rosaline, a pillar of strength and wrought-iron willpower that would hold the team together and keep them strong for years to come.

Outside of this was Kelis, the great-aunt who he remembered as a child. She’d bought him sweets and helped him chase pigeons, and in her next breath she’d be having stand-up rows with his grandfather, his mother trying to appease them both. Her physical warmth was matched by her Carrionite powers. Often he thought he’d sense his grandfather’s Gallifreyan heritage but now, as the energy from the bomb began to flow through him into Kelis, he knew that it was actually the proportion of him that was Carrionite that had given him these abilities. He didn’t know exactly she was doing, but as the energy flowed through him and into her it danced behind his eyelids in a merry stream of refracted light, a rainbow of colours jumping erratically in a mismatch of shapes.

“You’re doing wonderfully, darling,” she whispered. “Won’t take much longer, we’re nearly there.”

There was a final surge, and a jolt of energy barrelled into his chest, winding him momentarily. Through the link he felt Siobhan and Philip’s concern and Kelis’s soothing thoughts. Stars burst behind his eyes, the static charge coated his tongue making it feel too large for his mouth and his limbs began to tremble. He held tightly onto Kelis as she whispered words of encouragement, telling him that he was special, wonderful and deserving of everything the universe had to offer.

Then, thankfully, the energy began to subside. The flow through him slowing, until there was no more being channelled by the circle and the final vestiges where spirited away by Kelis. A loud beep emitted from the bomb and Ianto slowly opened his eyes, just in time to see the last of its lights extinguished.

Swaying slightly, Ianto stood unsupported as Kelis let go of him. The wide-eyed looks from the other circle members told him that they too had felt something more from him than his usual involvement. He shook away the woozy feeling in his head and took a few steadying breaths.

The insistent buzzing returned, his fingers began to tingle and his veins began to fill with a liquid fire that spread through his body in an electrifying sensation that was more erotic than painful. Suddenly he felt very weak and he sank to his knees, breathing in shallow pants as he was surrounded by the others. He heard Jack barge past them all and his lover’s hand grabbed his chin.

“Ianto, are you all right?”

TBC

*Kelis quotes: Macbeth Act 5 scene 3


	10. Chapter 10

Blocking out everything around him, Ianto tried to concentrate on steadying his breathing. Ignoring the burning in his limbs, he took a slow, shuddering breath, focusing on the way his lungs expanded and the rising of his chest. Slowly he regained control, although his heart still thumped loudly, echoing in his ears.

Jack was still at his side, his fingers gently petting Ianto’s cheek in a manner which was strangely intimate in such an open setting. His mind swam for a moment, jostled by a series of thoughts that clearly didn’t belong to him. Whatever Kelis had done to him was still working, and Jack’s emotions were, for the first time, laid bare for Ianto to see. Jack loved him, not just as a close friend or casual lover. Ianto blinked rapidly, as he realised that what he had thought Jack felt for him was a pale shadow of the truth; for Jack loved in the way that made a man’s soul weary, a deep, almost painful love that sat upon a raft of misery built on the resignation of eventual loss.

From Jack’s wide eyed stare Ianto guessed that Jack knew what he had discovered and was mentally raising his shields. Quietly, so only Jack could hear Ianto whispered: “It’s mutual.”

“I…”

Ianto shook his head and, placing his hand on Jack’s shoulder for support, he gradually stood. “I don’t need, or want to hear the words spoken aloud any more than you do.”

Jack’s smile told Ianto far more than a collection of carefully selected syllables. He was happy, and if Ianto played his cards right he’d have an equally wide grin later that evening.

“Ianto!” called the Doctor, who bounced over in a manner that Ianto still thought was mildly disconcerting. “Wow!”

Ianto and Jack smirked at each other as the Doctor slid an arm around Ianto’s shoulders, giving him a friendly squeeze. “The amazing Mr Jones. Now I really want to know what else you can do,” exclaimed the Doctor, waggling his eyebrows.

“I think,” said Jack, gently pulling Ianto out of the Doctor’s grasp, “we should get Ianto back to the Armadillo. He could probably do with a bit of a rest before we head back to Cardiff.”

The Doctor’s face fell. “What, leaving so soon?”

“We’ve done what we came to do, and a lot more besides. It’s not fair to leave Gwen on her own at the Hub.”

“She’s got Donna,” insisted the Doctor.

Ianto dusted away the dirt from the knees of his trousers and watched the strange face-off between the other two men. It would have been funny in a way, if he wasn’t at the centre of it all. “Jack’s right. What I could do with now is a large caffeinated beverage and two paracetamol.”

~ ~ ~

The Doctor, Ianto was surprised, made a passable cup of tea – although he doubted his beverage preparation skills extended to coffee by the way the Doctor had nervously handled the cafetiere in the Armadillo’s makeshift kitchen. “Amazing stuff, tea,” the Doctor said, filling the awkward silence. “I mean there is nothing quite like it, sort of a polyphenol elixir.”

“I’ve always preferred coffee,” replied Ianto, but nevertheless took a healthy swig from his mug.

“Well, you would, wouldn’t you?”

“Meaning?”

The Doctor grinned. “Always different. I imagine I could present you with evidence that strawberry milkshake could end all wars and you’d still pick another flavour.”

Ianto frowned. “I’m not sure what Jack has been telling you about me, but I’m not that contrary.”

“Oh, er, no…” the Doctor babbled, backtracking. “What I meant was you’re totally unique – fly your own path type of thing.”

“No, actually, I’m not. I’m general support for Torchwood Three and – apart from the occasional call from other parts of the organisation – I’m pretty normal.”

“Normal,” scoffed the Doctor.

“Yes, normal,” said Ianto firmly. “I didn’t ask to be different, so as far as I’m concerned I’m normal.”

“He’s always been stubborn, even as a child.” Both Ianto and the Doctor turned to see Kelis leaning against the counter. “Or so far in denial he’ll drown.”

“I am not in denial,” snapped Ianto. “I came to terms with who – and what – I am many years ago. Kelis, for someone who claims to dislike my grandfather so much, you seem to agree with his philosophies regarding my future.”

Ianto watched as Kelis visibly bristled. “What I want for you, Ianto, is to experience the most life has to offer. You grandfather is a reprehensible old charlatan who wouldn’t think twice about using your abilities for his own nefarious schemes.”

“My abilities? What abilities?” scoffed Ianto. “Whatever you did to me is already fading. I reckon within the next few hours I’ll be back to how I was.”

“That can be rectified.”

“No,” said Ianto resolutely.

The Doctor suddenly started, almost dropping his mug. He grinned at Kelis, a knowing look plastered all over his face. “It was you, wasn’t it? You sent that bomb? Oh my, you are very sneaky.”

Kelis looked unrepentant. She shrugged dismissively. “I think I proved my point.”

“Proved your point,” Ianto repeated carefully. “All you’ve proved, Kelis, is that I don’t want to be party to your tricks and machinations anymore than I did my grandfather’s.”

“Ianto, be reasonable...”

“Reasonable?” Ianto ground out. “You are impossible!”

Ianto pushed back from the table and stood up. “I’m going to say goodbye to Philip,” he said stiffly, refusing to look at his great-aunt.

The Doctor watched Ianto leave. “I think I’ll go after him – just to make sure he’s okay.”

Kelis chuckled to herself as she watched the Doctor scamper after Ianto, but stopped when she realised she wasn’t on her own. “It’s not polite to eavesdrop, Captain.”

“He’s quite smitten, isn’t he?” Jack moved out of the shadows.

“Yes, but as you well know, the Doctor is amazed at new things.”

Jack made a noncommittal grunt. “Are you sure there’s not more to it?”

“If you are asking if I am behind the Doctor’s attraction towards Ianto then I’m afraid I’m going to have to disillusion you. I had nothing to do with it.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. To be perfectly frank with you, Jack. The Doctor’s mind is far more complicated than yours and I severely doubt I’d have had anywhere near the same effect on him as I did on you.”

“Then...” began Jack, sounding uncertain.

“The Doctor likes him. Is it that difficult to believe?”

“No... that’s not what I meant.”

“Jack,” said Kelis kindly, “it’s okay to be jealous. The only reason I was able to do what I did to you was because I was building on what was already inside your head. Maybe you should talk to Ianto about it.”

“But the Doctor...”

“...finds Ianto attractive. Get over it. Just between you and me, he had a rather soft spot for Ianto’s grandfather too.” On seeing Jack’s brow crumple she quickly added: “But I wouldn’t read too much into that, after all Ianto is nothing like Koschei and, as I am sure you are aware, he is a rather good-looking man.”

Kelis patted Jack on the shoulder. “You should be grateful – I’ve changed my mind about you.”

Jack gave her a look that clearly said he didn’t believe her. “Grateful, eh? And what brought on this momentous change of events?”

“I think you’re good for him. In a way no normal, short-lived human could be. You have potential to give him some continuity. But please don’t think that means I like you.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” replied Jack, somewhat churlishly.

“This is the part where I should threaten you with imminent death if you ever break my great-nephew’s heart. However, since it is a pointless threat, both because of your unique abilities and that fact Ianto has proved to be more than capable of looking after himself, I suggest we end this conversation before it spirals into insults and slander.”

“Agreed. But I do have one more question.”

“Just the one?” she asked with a slight grin.

“What did you do to him?”

Kelis sighed loudly. “Nothing permanent, it seems. Look, Ianto could – if he wanted – embrace his Carrionite heritage. I just gave him the opportunity to do so. Now, I think it is time for me to placate Ianto and return Floxy to his owner.”

They found Ianto in deep conversation with Henshaw, the other members of Torchwood Four surrounding them and Dunston looking pissed off. The Doctor, Jack noted with amusement, was seemingly hanging on Ianto’s every word. Jack realised that the pang of mild jealousy that occurred when he saw his lover talking to Henshaw was something he’d been carrying around for a while, and not attributable to Kelis – much to his chagrin. Which meant that there was one thing he really had to do.

“Henshaw,” he called. “I owe you an apology for my recent behaviour.”

Ianto’s look of surprise wounded him slightly, although Jack would admit that Ianto might not have actually seen him apologise to someone outside of Torchwood Three before. Henshaw also looked out of sorts but hid his discomfort well. “I... er... think nothing of it,” he muttered, accepting Jack’s out-stretched hand and shaking it warmly.

“Well, if you’ve quite finished,” drawled Dunston, “some of us have a secret organisation to run.”

“I believe that was Stuart’s gentle way of telling us to bugger off,” translated Ianto needlessly.

“And that’s my cue to leave,” said Kelis, Floxy having appeared from his resting place on the large saggy armchair that was now covered in dog hair.

There was an awkward moment between Ianto and Kelis, but she grabbed hold of him and hugged him fiercely. “Do forgive me, Ianto? I can be a silly old woman at times.”

Ianto hugged her back. “You do realise that I know this is just an act to get me to play along,” he whispered into her ear. “Though I find it much harder to stay angry with you than with Grandfather.”

She pulled away. “I won’t leave it so long between visits. And Jack has strict orders to look after you properly.”

“Does he now? For a military man, Jack’s never been very good at following orders. Giving them – now that’s a different matter.”

She gently ran her hand down his cheek. “Take care.”

“I will,” he promised.

Calling Floxy to heel, she walked into an open area of the Armadillo and muttered something inaudible. A rectangle of white light appeared behind her and she waved to Ianto. “Don’t worry; I’ll make sure this doorway is properly closed behind me!”

She stepped into the light and was gone, but Ianto could just make out a series of muffled barks from Floxy as the doorway closed. “Please tell me you haven’t any more relatives I need to watch out for,” asked Jack imploringly.

“No. Just her and the Master – I think they’re more than enough to be going along with.”

The Doctor bounced lightly on the balls of his feet. “Since all the excitement is over, perhaps I could offer you two gentlemen a lift back to Cardiff. I imagine Donna will be getting quite anxious by now.”

“Anxious? She didn’t strike me as the anxious type,” said Jack disbelievingly.

“Perhaps anxious is the wrong word, but nevertheless I must be getting back.”

Goodbyes were said, and Ianto was once more enveloped in the Torchwood Four equivalent of a group hug. Promising to keep in touch, he reluctantly let Jack lead him out of the Armadillo and into the TARDIS.

“What’s the matter, Ianto?” asked the Doctor, watching Ianto carefully as they entered the console room. “Surely you’d have seen Koschei’s ship.”

“No, I haven’t.”

“Ah,” said the Doctor, “I assumed since you didn’t wear the usual ‘bunny in the headlight’ expression that most people do when they first enter a TARDIS that you’d seen one before.”

“I’ve heard a lot about her, his ship I mean, but I’ve not travelled with him – yet.”

“Well, you know if you fancied a spin, we could always...”

“I don’t think so. But thank you for the offer.”

The Doctor looked hurt but he smiled, the forced happiness not quite meeting his eyes. “Yes, of course. Can’t stand here all day gassing. Hold onto something,” he ordered, pulling at a lever.

With a lurch and a noise that would always remind Ianto of one of the worst days of his life, the TARDIS did what she was designed to do and dematerialised.

“Jack?” began Ianto.

“Yeah?”

“Would you mind giving me and the Doctor a few moments alone?”

Jack exchanged a bemused look with the Doctor over the main console, neither man expecting Ianto’s request. “Of course not, I’ll go and have a look around the old girl. Maybe stroke a couple of her railings.”

“Oi, no flirting with my ship!” warned the Doctor, but Jack merely laughed and left the room.

Ianto stood with his arms crossed over his chest. “For a while I hated you,” he said quietly.

“Because Jack left?” guessed the Doctor, his eyes firmly fixed on a panel of green flashing buttons.

Ianto nodded. “But I told myself to stop acting like a child and quickly realised that Jack had left of his own free will and I had no right to blame anyone but him. Then he comes back, as if nothing has happened, and it takes him three months to tell me what went on while he was away. And then it was the watered down version.”

“I see.”

“Do you?”

The Doctor appeared confused. “Maybe I don’t.”

“You have always been the bad guy to me, Doctor. My grandfather was hardly one to extol your virtues, while my time with Torchwood taught me you were the enemy. And to put it mildly, Jack’s sabbatical didn’t help. But now I’ve met you I realise I was wrong. Thank you for being Jack’s friend. He’s going to need you in the future.”

“Ianto, I don’t know what to say. I...”

“How about we’re nearly back at Cardiff and you’d like a cup of tea before you leave with Ms Noble?”

They shared a smile that was interrupted by Jack calling through the door: “Can I come back in now? I promise I won’t get jealous if you’re both naked and have started without me!”

“Come on in, Jack,” the Doctor said. “We’re nearly at Cardiff and I could murder a cup of tea before I head off again.”

The TARDIS landed and the three men disembarked, Ianto feeling genuinely glad to be back, and away from Torchwood Two, or rather Stuart Dunston. Donna hugged the Doctor as he stepped off the invisible lift and into the Hub, but no one missed the less than subtle once-over she gave Ianto. “Wondered when you’d get back,” she said releasing him. “Kettle’s just boiled. I swear you can hear the sound of a teabag hitting a cup from half a galaxy a way.”

Gwen appeared from the conference, looking slight harassed, something she explained by means of a sort rant about the Prime Minister’s office being manned by anal half-wits. Ianto slipped away to make tea, suppressing a shudder of distaste as he moved the box of teabags to one side and found the tea caddy containing loose tea leaves.

He rejoined the others moments later carrying a heavily laden tray and fixed the Doctor a cup of tea. The near orgasmic expression the Doctor pulled as he finished his cup was enough to ensure Ianto wasn’t about to offer him a refill.

“Time to be going,” announced the Doctor, and Donna picked up her jacket as he did so. “The offer still stands, Ianto. You’re more than welcome to come along for the ride.”

“I have a whole raft of potential travelling companions, Doctor, so for now you’ll understand if I respectfully decline.”

Again, Ianto noticed the Doctor’s half smile, but it was covered as Jack pulled the Doctor into a tight embrace which the Time Lord returned with equal gusto. And as the Hub settled once more after the Doctor and Donna had finally left, Ianto reflected that maybe he wasn’t so bad to have around after all.

“Well, I must say, it’s good to have you boys back,” declared Gwen happily. “And since you are back I’m going home. Rhys has been moaning something terrible about me not being home the last couple of days, the big lug.”

Left alone, Ianto recognised the mischievous glint in Jack’s eyes and moments later he was grabbed by the tie and pulled into a searing kiss.

“Ianto, bed now.”

~ ~ ~

Ianto stretched out, enjoying the feel of the elongation of his muscles and the aftermath of an enjoyable hour messing up the sheets of Jack’s camp bed. He looked over to see Jack wearing the same smug expression as the one he thought he’d be sporting, and spotting the leather band around his lover’s wrist an idea hit him like a thunderbolt.

“Give me your wrist strap.”

Jack raised a questioning eyebrow but did as he was told. “What are you plotting, Jones?”

Ianto looked almost furtive as he placed the wrist strap across the palm of his hand, and then laid his other hand across it. “You know I told Kelis what she did was only temporary? Guess what? I lied.”

Jack's eyes widened comically. “Ianto...”

With a broad smile, that was more of a grin, Ianto handed Jack his wrist strap back. “There, all fixed.”

“What?” Jack turned the offending article over in his hands and carefully examined the face. Quickly, he put it back on. “How?”

“That doesn't matter. What matters is that when we are ready to go travelling we can do so together and at our leisure – when we want to and not because of over-enthusiastic Time Lords or family members.”

Jack lunged at Ianto, knocking him backwards and landing on top of him. “I tell you what, Ianto. There was one thing Kelis got right...”

"Oh yeah?" replied Ianto, leaning up to steal a kiss.

"You really are a marvel!"

Ianto chuckled. “Oh, I don’t know about that, but I certainly have my moments.”

FIN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're done :) Thanks to all who commented.


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